


In the Midnight Hour

by TheScarletGarden



Series: In the Midnight Hour [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Did I say slow burn?, Don't Like Don't Read, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Jon Has Issues, Jonerys, Missandei is the friend that everyone needs, Modern Westeros, Multi, Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll, Slow Burn, Some pining, WARNING: flawed characters coming at ya, Well Whatever, a lot of swearing, and they deserve pizza and rock concerts and hot dates, changed the rating just to be on the safe side, feel-good fic, just realized people drink a lot in this fic, just some smut here and there, nothing crazy though, the Starks are alive and well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-19 05:20:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 52,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13697703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheScarletGarden/pseuds/TheScarletGarden
Summary: Daenerys Targaryen has just moved to King's Landing from Valyria and is eager to make new friends. Missandei has a crush on a DJ. Jon has a band and some issues. Arya and Gendry spend most of their time bickering. Sansa Stark has a dream and a fascination. Lyanna tries to survive office life and her attraction to the charming CEO of her company. Nobody dies, because sometimes we need therapy to recover from the cruel canon.A modern Westeros light-hearted story with a ton of humour, music references for the rockers out there, silly banter and just the right amount of fluff. Hope you will like it!Current chapter: Conversations, conversations... oh, and smut.CURRENTLY ON A SHORT HIATUS, BUT NOT ABANDONED, I PROMISE! ❤





	1. The Red City

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Here we are again, this time with a modern Westeros multi-chapter! More tags will be added as the story continues. No idea how long this will be, and neither how frequent the updates. It's my second fiction, and the first multi-chapter, so you've got to be patient with scheduling and whatnot.
> 
> The title is due to the fact that I was listening to Billy Idol's "Rebel Yell". Seriously, no other meaning than that.
> 
> Also, who wants to be a beta? PLS KHALEESI HELP ME.
> 
> Let me know what you think!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *this chapter is provided to you by "Rouge City" by Velvet Condom*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moodboard by justwanderingneverlost.

JON

It felt incredible. The fear and terror subsided, leaving his mind free to be washed by a sensation of awe and wonder. The black scales almost felt hot under his fingertips, and the big, intelligent eyes of the gigantic dragon seemed to connect with him on a deeper level. He never felt that scared and happy and whole at the same time before, never. He patted the scaly dragon snout as he would do with Ghost, hand trembling with reverence. Suddenly, a deafening sound exploded in his ears, scaring the shit out of him. Was he about to become dragon dinner? No, the dragon was perfectly still, looking at him with a vaguely perplexed expression in his huge, bright-red serpentine eyes. Was it... wait, was it a nuclear alarm? It seemed so. As the annoying sound continued, he realized it was _just_ Sansa's terrifying alarm clock from the other side of the wall. _Fuck_. How it was even possible for an alarm clock to be _that fucking loud_? He muttered some curses under his breath, already guessing how heavy his eye-bags would look that day. Glancing at his phone's screen, he quickly calculated how many hours he actually did manage to sleep. He came back from the concert at around... 4:30? 5:00? And it was just 7:30. Grunting, he grabbed his pillow and shoved it over his head, trying to steal precious minutes of extra sleep. He was suddenly woken - again - by Sansa's loud _voice_.

  
"Guys! Get your lazy arses in the kitchen, you're late already!"  
  
He heard Robb grunting profanities from the other side of the room, and the rustling sound of his sheets.  
  
"Come on, Jon. If I have to suffer, I will not suffer this alone."  
  
"Fuck off, Robb."  
  
"No, you fuck off. You woke me up last night. Were you drunk? It seemed like a fucking elephant barged into the room in the dead of the night."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"You're not. Come, or Sansa will take charge of the Wake Jon Up daily mission."  
  
"Ugh..."  
  
He somehow managed to transfer his "lazy arse" from the bed to a kitchen chair, not falling asleep on the floor in the process. Arya was, if possible, even grumpier-looking than him, hair mussed and lips pursed in displeasure. Sansa was pouring coffee in four mugs, handing them out on the table with her usual morning steely expression, the one that said: _"make me lose any time this morning and I will gut you on the spot"_. She was the only one of them usually eager to wake up early, and so she was usually also the one to prepare breakfast and wake up the others, much to her chagrin.  
  
They consumed breakfast in a silent haze, and then took turns for the bathroom. He willingly renounced to lay any claim of priority to steal five more minutes on the couch.  
  
Somehow, they all managed to be ready for 8:30. Arya got her backpack on her shoulder, heading to King's Landing college where she was a freshman, Sansa got her gym bag, as she was a ballet dancer and trying really hard to enter Westeros Royal Ballet this year. Robb had his own bag full of law books, and he... well, he put on his leather jacket and checked for phone and wallet, and that was it. No bags needed to work at The Wall, a vinyl records store just at the heart of Flea Bottom, historically a very poor part of the city, now a lively neighbourhood full of youths, clubs and alternative shops. It was probably the only place in the city center they could afford rent in, and it was very convenient for him as the record shop and their cramped apartment were close enough to go on foot.  
  
He hoped he would not fall asleep between the records, as old Mormont would definitely not be happy about it.

* * *

RHAEGAR

The elevator was taking him to the 100th floor of the huge Targaryen Enterprises inc. building in the heart of the business district of the city. It felt somehow like a first day of school, even if he had already been here many times, managing contacts and projects involving the main headquarter in Valyria and the central office for Westeros. It was different today, tho, because after a few months spent between all their offices around the two continents, he was finally taking charge of the Westeros Division direction, after good Jon Arryn finally retired. His father Aerys was now his only boss, very far from here in their Valyrian headquarters. It was a huge responsibility, but he felt ready. He prepared for this for years.

The elevator doors dinged gently while opening, and Barristan Selmy went immediately to greet him.

"Rhaegar! So good to see you! We were just waiting for you. How has the travel back from Dragonstone been? Business running smooth?"

"Barristan. Yes, everything's fine, the launch of the new dragonglass products has been a success."

"Nice, nice. Come. I suppose you already know which one will be your office, don't you? Old Arryn left it fine, that much I can tell you."

He conducted him in a spacious office that, alone, took about half of that floor. It was fit for the CEO of the Westeros Division.

"I'll let you some time to get comfortable, we have our first meeting in fifteen minutes, so you can be briefed about everything you need to know. There are also some new people I'd like you to meet."

"Uh? Finally found replacements for the Marketing Head?"

"Also for Finance. It's been a messy few weeks here, guaranteed. But we managed fine enough."

"Good to hear. Ok then, I'll meet you in fifteen. Main conference room, I suppose?"

"Yes, the floor just below this one."

"Fantastic." As Barristan left, he took off his jacket and hanged it just behind the door, then took out his work laptop and quickly checked for any e-mails. He replied to some reports from Essos and downloaded some files to check out later. Then, he headed to the conference room.

The meeting went pretty smooth, as he already had quite a precise idea of what was going on, having prepared in advance. They introduced him the new heads of Finance and Marketing, Petyr Baelish and Lyanna Stark. The first was a middle-aged man, short and thin, with calculating cold eyes and a goatee that definitely contributed in giving Rhaegar the chills. Lyanna was a young woman about his age, and she seemed the total opposite of Baelish, cheerful and seemingly quite enthusiast at her new responsibility. She had an excellent resume, that much was true.

After the meeting he got back to his office and drowned himself in reports and accounts for the rest of the day, sipping iced coffee in amounts that would have scandalised even the most experienced barista.

* * *

DANY

The cab came to a stop, gently waking her from her nap. She felt jet-lagged like never in her life, but there was space for a lingering sense of excitement in the back of her mind. It was the start of a whole new life, in a new city, and she was about to see Rhaegar again after months of distance. The only sour thought was that she had to share this exciting experience with Viserys, but she was just annoyed, not concerned: in recent times she had learned how to efficiently handle her brat of a brother. She took a look at her watch, signalling 11:38, and got out of the cab with ill-disguised giddiness. They were in a quite posh neighbourhood, tall luxurious condos of recent construction and a few old nobiliar-looking mansions, situated along the side of Aegon's Hill, near the ancient ruins of the glorious Red Keep, the most famous sight-seeing of the city. She turned to look at her brother, who was grumpy as usual: "When will we meet Rhae?"

  
"Don't know. I think he said he works until 7 or something. He will come here after that, or so he said."  
  
A very short and very squealing middle-aged woman in a red tailleur was coming towards them, grinning wildly. "You must be the Targaryens! You look soooo much like your brother, I immediately recognized you! I'm Mira, and I'm your real estate agent!"  
  
"Who could've imagined," Vis snickered in a low voice, annoyed.  
  
She had to fight a smile. Mira was definitely too much energy to handle after such a long flight.  
  
"Come, come! Your brother chose for you a very beautiful apartment! He had very specific requests, but let me tell you, he's such a gallant man! Very elegant, too. Oh, but I'm digressing, am I not? Let's take the elevator. It's all glass, you see? Your new lovely home is on the tenth and last floor."  
  
The apartment was amazing, spacious and luminous with enormous windows overlooking the Blackwater Bay. She wondered briefly if Rhae didn't exaggerate buying them a place that was for sure quite an expensive one. The furniture was minimalist, very modern and very white, and it turned out Dany's and Vis' rooms were the farthest possible from one another. She couldn't be happier for her brother "specific requests". Her room was the smallest of the two, but still incredibly spacious, and was attached to a studio situated just behind a red door. She smiled, for she knew this was another of her brother requests, a homage to their sea house at Braavos, in which they spent almost every summer since they were kids, and that Dany adored over any other place in the world. All her paintings and tools were already in the room, neatly organized along the walls.  
  
Happy, she threw herself on the king-size bed and tried to sleep some more to shake her jet-lag off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: explore Flea Bottom with me and meet Gendry! :)


	2. Flea Bottom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Explore Flea Bottom with me and meet Gendry. :)
> 
> *this chapter is provided to you by "Rock the Casbah" by The Clash*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to LustOnMyFingers and Enygma0710 for betaing this chapter. You're the best!
> 
> Moodboard by justwanderingneverlost.
> 
> As usual, let me know what you think and what would you like to see. This fic is only halfway planned for now, so I'm pretty open to suggestions!

RHAEGAR

He parked his car right in front of the condo with a sigh. His first day as a CEO had been quite intense, but he was optimistic about his job. He called the elevator, carefully holding the pizza boxes with his left hand and the bag of beer cans with his right. He was quite excited to see his siblings again, or at least to see Dany, as he didn't get particularly along with Viserys.  _Well, who does really?_ Rhaegar barely made it out of the elevator before his sister's arms were wrapped around his neck with an excited squeal.

"Ooohf, Dany! I'm happy to see you too!” He gave her a brief kiss on the cheek and gestured towards his left hand.  
  
Dany quickly grabbed the boxes, saving their dinner from a close encounter with the marble floor of the hallway. "See? Safe and sound! Gods, Rhae, I've missed you so much! Come in!"  
  
He staggered inside the apartment, nodding at Viserys who was just chilling on the couch. "Vis."  
  
"Rhae."  
  
Dany dragged him to sit down, eager to hear everything about the last months and the new position in the company. Together, they ate pizza and drank cold beer splayed on the couch, listening to some radio in the background, and Rhaegar started to tell them all they -  _Dany, really_  - wanted to know.  
  
"It's been quite a good start. I mean, I already knew everything about what was going on, Arryn started training me well before he retired. It's a nice environment, the people are ok. There is this shady guy in the Finance Department that gives me the creeps, now, but the rest of them seem cool"  
  
"When will Elia come here?"  
  
A small sigh escaped him; things with his wife weren't going really well, and after their last fight she went back to Dorne to her parents' house. She said she did it just because she wanted to be with her family for a while, no ill feelings, but he could sense there was more to it than she was willing to tell him. He shrugged, "I don't know. She said she wanted to help Ellaria with some sort of renovations she wants to make at her home, but I have a feeling she's just buying time". Dany simply pursed her lips and wisely let the topic drop. Viserys wasn't paying attention, scrolling through something on his phone.  
  
They chatted about lighter topics, the moving, how were their parents in Valyria doing, Dany's paintings and projects. It was always nice being with his little sister, they could talk and joke for hours on end and never get bored.  
  
"Have you visited a bit of the city already?"  
  
Dany shook her head. "Not yet. I was too tired, the flight from Valyria destroyed me today... but tomorrow I guess I could explore a bit."  
  
"You would enjoy it this time around. Last time you've been here you were too little to properly do it. How old were you? Seven, or something?"  
  
"I seem to recall being eight, maybe? But not older. I just remember a bit of the visit when we went to the Red Keep's ruins and that day we spent on the beach. Not much else."

"You would like Flea Bottom, you know? It's become much better in the last few years. Although it might undergo a bit of gentrification in the near future, for now it's still pretty cool. It's the kind of place that you would like for sure." He knew his sister was not as bourgeois as the rest of the family, and he adored her for it. He would never try to change her or criticize her, unlike their father and Vis who constantly felt the need to judge her at every opportunity. It was the reason he and Dany got along better together than the rest of the family.  
  
She smiled, grateful for the honest advice. "I will make it my first destination tomorrow."

* * *

GENDRY

"Hey, stupid bull."  
  
_Gosh, tell me she has bought lunch._  He slid out from under the car he was working on, dirty with grease and sweat, only to see Arya Stark smirking down at him with a taco-smelling paper bag in hand.  
  
"Hey, stupid wolf."  
  
She grinned at him and proceeded to sit on the hood of the car. "Don't, Arry. You know Tobho doesn't like it when you sit on the cars"  
  
"Who cares about Tobho?"  
  
"Me, for instance. You know, he's the reason I pay rent. And he tolerates you around  _far more_  than I would do!"  
  
She threw his taco at him, almost hitting him in the face, scowling fiercely. He just laughed it off, retrieved the poor thing from the floor, unwrapped it and started attacking it like a savage, while heading to the bench along the back wall of Tobho Mott's garage. Arya followed reluctantly, sitting with her legs crossed down on the bench next to him.  
  
"How is college going?"  
  
She shrugged. "Meh. Quite boring. But at least I get to stay in King's Landing."  
  
"Not missing Winterfell?"  
  
"Of course I do. But still, I like it here. And there's Jon and Robb. Winterfell hasn't been the same without them."  
  
"Oh, come on. We both know the only reason you're here is because of Sansa."  
  
"Sure. I swear one day I will break that fucking alarm of hers. I'm certain Jon would help me hide the body, he's always complaining about it." She took another bite. "Are you coming tonight?"  
  
"Where? And for fuck's sake, close your mouth when you chew, Arry!"  
  
"You're so sensible I would almost mistake you for my sister if it weren't for the grease," she retorted, mouth full.  
  
"Fuck off," Gendry muttered as he took another taco out of the bag.  
  
"At the Dragonpit, anyway," Arya continued. "Jon's playing."  
  
"Oh, cool. What time?"  
  
"The usual one for live shows. Around 21:30"  
  
"Count me in." She just smiled.

* * *

DANY

Flea Bottom hooked her the instant she step foot in it. It was so different from her own neighbourhood, cramped little streets full of graffiti and very peculiar shops. She took her time exploring, savouring every smell from the street food stands and visiting every shop that caught her attention, while skimming her fingers through clothes, books, accessories and records. She took some pictures for her friends back in Essos and had lunch on a bench, watching the people just passing by. Dany's attention was suddenly caught by a beautiful girl with a majestic halo of curly hair attaching red and black flyers to a wall. Curious, she approached and saw that it was promoting a free concert that night for a local band called "The Night's Watch"; the venue for the concert was a nearby underground basement called Dragonpit. She was captivated by the flyer graphics, raw and unrefined, and felt curious about exploring some of Flea Bottom's nightlife, too. She snatched the flyer from the wall, folded it and put it in one of her jean jacket's pockets.  
  
Dany didn't seem to notice how much time had passed as she explored Flea Bottom because before she realized it, it was near dusk when she finally made it home. It appeared Vis was seemingly also getting ready to head out as he re-emerged from his room sniffing loudly and scratching his nose. She rolled her eyes and tried to refrain her look of contempt: Vis made it crystal clear that he didn’t care about her warnings anyway, the prick. It was seriously unfortunate to be forced to live with her least favourite brother, but their parents had pleaded on her to "keep him in check", as that could be an easy task. She couldn't find the heart to refuse their wishes, anyway, and so here they were, stuck together in an unpleasant situation.

Deciding to not let thoughts of her brother potentially derail her planned night, Dany headed towards her room to take a quick shower and decided on her outfit for the night, pulling out a black skater skirt, a fitted maroon top, with long sleeves with an off-the-shoulder neckline. A pair of military boots and her oversized jean jacket with a red three-headed dragon stitched on the back completed the look. She braided her long silver hair loosely and put on a bit of makeup on her eyes and a dark shade on her lips. Quite satisfied with the result, she left the house with a last look at the mirror and a wave to her stupid brother, heading back again to Flea Bottom.  
  
The Dragonpit wasn't difficult to find. She realized she had been in front of the venue at some point during that afternoon, but it had been almost impossible to recognize with the shutters down. It was quite early still, but she didn't want to wait around, so she decided to go ahead and enter anyway.

Once she descended into the dim Dragonpit it became evident that they had just opened and were setting up for the night, only a few other people scattered around the still empty and quite huge basement. Dany wandered over to the bar and asked for a Long Island, while observing a few guys clad in black setting their instruments on the stage, about to proceed with the customary soundcheck. There were four of them: behind the drums sat a chubby guy twirling a drumstick in his hands, a small one with large ears stood adjacent to him setting up a bunch of synthesizers, a thin, dour-looking one with long hair connected a guitar to its amp, and a curly-haired guy stood in front of the stage managing bass and mic. The soundcheck, while brief, was enough to spark her interest. She could tell they wrote their own songs and their sound favored a sort of rock tinged with heavy cold-wave influences. It reminded her of other bands she loved, but at the same time, they had their own originality. The singer had an interesting voice, deep and gruff with some kind of accent she couldn't quite well place. Curious to see them at full force, she took advantage of the short wait until the concert could properly begin and headed outside to take a smoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Missandei! And our favourite King and Queen of Flea Bottom's underground scene finally meeting up.


	3. The Dragonpit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our babies meet!
> 
> WARNING: brooding ahead! Yes, you already know who's the source of all that gloominess.  
> OHHHHH BOY, SETTING UP SOME DRAMA, HERE!
> 
> *this chapter is provided to you by "How Soon is Now?" by The Smiths*  
> (NorthernLights37, if you're reading, I think about you everytime I choose the "song of the chapter", and this one especially. Tell me if it's not perfect for our favourite broody bastard!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DON'T YOU EVEN TRY TO GET USED TO UPDATES BEING SO FAST. This will definitely NOT be the norm, lol.
> 
> Huge thanks to LustOnMyFingers and Enygma0710 for betaing this chapter. You're the best!
> 
> Moodboard by justwanderingneverlost.
> 
> As usual, let me know what you think and what would you like to see. This fic is only halfway planned for now, so I'm pretty open to suggestions!

MISSANDEI

Missandei had just finished distributing orange and lime slices for the cocktails into the small plastic containers along the bar when she glanced around the basement. People were starting to slowly trickle in, but the situation was still quiet and there was time for a brief break before the concert. She grabbed her jacket and climbed the stairs to go outside, pulling out a cigarette and patting her pockets. _Damn you, Jon Stark. Not again._ Sighing at the unconscious thieving habit of her best friend, she looked around to find someone who could light her cigarette up, settling her attention on a girl with long silver hair and dark lipstick. "Got a lighter?"

The petite woman nodded and smiled as she handed her the small aluminium device. Thankful, Missy lit her cigarette and took in a deep inhale; giving the lighter back to her, silently studying her face as she exhaled. "Name's Missy; I’ve never seen you around here before."

"Daenerys. I just moved here, actually."

"Valyrian?" Daenerys nodded lightly, seemingly impressed. "The accent is a dead giveaway. Languages are my specialty," she said in perfect Valyrian.

The new girl's face broke into a bright smile at that, and she responded in the same language. "It's cool, this place. You come here often?"

"We - me and friends, mostly - somehow manage this place. We don’t have the property outright but a friend owns this rabbit hole and lets us do whatever we want. We just... do our stuff here. There isn't any real profit from it, it’s mostly for fun." Daenerys nodded, intrigued, taking another drag from her cigarette.

A gruff voice with a thick Northern accent came from behind them, speaking in the Common Tongue. "Missy, got a lighter?" 

"Fuck no, Stark,” Missy turned around, throwing an accusatory glare. “I think my lighter is probably in one of  _your_  pockets, you damn thief."

"How come you're smoking, then?" he chuckled.

Missy nodded towards her saviour, "She was kind enough to provide a little fire. Maybe she will be kind enough to share it with  _you_ , too."

Daenerys laughed a little at that, and extended the lighter to Jon. "I seem to understand I'm gambling my property here. Be aware, I'm watching your every move."

They all shared a laugh. The new girl had a sense of humour. Missy found herself liking her quiet and friendly attitude a lot. Jon made a show of giving her back the lighter, and Missy mockingly complimented him. "See? Not that difficult."

"One day, Missy; when I am rich and famous, I will buy you a hundred lighters."

"Better hurry up before I quit smoking, then."

They shared a few moments of companionable silence before heading inside. Missy got back behind the bar and started serving beers, cocktails and enjoying the music. There were a lot of people packed in there that night and the basement was full and hot. She brushed a stray curl from her sticky forehead as she glanced around a few times for the new girl who Missy finally found dancing in the crowd, sweat gleaming on her forehead and a huge smile on her face. Occasionally she made it back to her to order a drink and exchange a few words. Dany asked about her life, the band, about the place and what other things did they do at the Pit. Throughout the night bits of conversation were stolen here and there, as she remained for a while after the concert, the two of them chatting in the sparse moments of peace between the onslaughts of beer orders. By the end of the night, Missy felt like she made a new friend.

* * *

ARYA

The place was crowded and full of energy. As was her habit, Arya threw herself into the middle of the crowd, right under the stage. She loved The Night's Watch, and not only because it was her favourite cousin and his friends: the music was  _good_. Good enough that at every concert it was becoming more and more difficult to refrain from starting an appreciative mosh pit right under Jon's nose. At least, she could dance  _hard_ , drink a ton of beer and chat up with random weird people. A couple of songs into the concert, she felt someone insistently elbowing her ribs, and turned around to see Gendry's stupid face grinning at her. She shared her beer with him and hugged him around the waist as they started doing some sort of weird and fast dancing moves, making him laugh and spill a little bit of beer on the concrete floor of the Dragonpit. "Wasting beer is a crime, Arry! Drink it up!"

She laughed, drank, and danced a bit more. Arya was feeling  _good, really good._ A jolt of energy coursing through her body gave her dancing a renewed vigour. This was the life she loved, in her favourite place with a few of her favourite people.

After the concert ended and the instruments were all loaded in Pyp's van, she grabbed a table for Gendry, Grenn, herself and the band's guys to chat away the rest of the night. Sam and Edd came down the stairs huffing and puffing, happy and red-faced. Pyp was somehow still rummaging in his van, and told them to order him a beer while they waited. She looked around to see where the fuck was her cousin, and saw him at the bar, apparently bothering Missandei. "Jon! Let her work a little, come drink with us!", she shouted.

He laughed, smirked at her from a distance, sauntering over to their table a few minutes later, seemingly followed by a girl Arya had never seen around.

"Guys, meet Dany. She's new in town and apparently Missy's new best friend, so be nice to her."

"Hi, Dany. I'm sorry you had to stick with my dumb cousin just because Missy's busy. I'm Arya, nice to meet you."

Jon swatted her playfully on the arm, while Dany finished introducing herself to the guys.

"It's nice to have another girl at this table of misfits. Missy's always working, and I'm usually the only one," she said.

"Really, Arya? I thought you were one of the guys!"

"Fuck you, Grenn. Just because I could beat your ass up anytime, doesn't make me any less of a woman."

Grenn was quick to change the topic, scowling a little at her but not being able to deny the hard truth. Arya was small, but she was a force to be reckoned with; she practised martial arts since she was a little girl, and was more than capable to defend herself. They all laughed a little at Grenn's fierce blush, and started chatting merrily about the concert and the band's next dates. Taking advantage of the relatively quiet moment, Arya leaned in closer to Jon's ear as not to be heard by the others.

Nodding towards the silver-haired girl that sat on the other side of Jon, she whispered: "Finally trying to break free from your cage, cousin?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know damn well what I'm talking about, don't play dumb with me."

Jon glanced sideways at her. "It's hard to talk about _breaking free from a cage_  while she constantly insists on maximum freedom, Arya."

"Oh, come on!” She pushed Jon’s shoulder. “Like you're actually enjoying it. She's the only one taking advantage of your dumb agreement."

"It's not dumb. Many couples have the same sort of agreement, and they're doing just fine."

"Except _you,_ Jon _,_ are not. She's playing with you, and you're stupid enough to let her do it."

Jon visibly stiffened, his mood quickly turning sour and broody. "Whatever. I don't want to talk about it. And it's none of your business anyway." He brushed her off and grabbed the nearest beer, downing half its contents before bidding the group “goodnight” and leaving the Dragonpit.

 _Gods_ , Arya thought. She loved her cousin, she truly did; but he could be such a dumb cunt sometimes.

* * *

JON

Jon had tried to call her a few times in the last couple days, just to hear her voice, and she didn't call back. The messages were short and sparse, and her Instagram was full of pictures of her and her group of friends in different places in Essos, usually with a backpack on, bright toothy smiles towards the camera. In most of the photos, she was hugging that ugly fucker.

He knew what they were doing, even if she never explicitly stated it to him. It was part of their agreement and the entirety of the reason why Jon felt like shit at the moment.

He met Ygritte more or less a year and a half before and liked her immediately. She was funny, fierce, and had a great sense of humour. She was bold, energetic and could always find a way to make him smile. They started to fuck a couple of weeks after they met, and then their relationship somehow evolved from casual shag buddies into a more proper "dating" routine. Except she didn't want to date, not really, and things became weirder after she told him she loved him and liked being with him but yet she still wanted her freedom, and that he should have his freedom as well. He honestly couldn't remember what exactly made him agree to this bullshit. Maybe he just thought that having her  _somehow_  was still better than not having her at all. Maybe it was the hope that she would change her mind about spending more time together and that getting to better know each other would finally make her want to  _truly_  be with him. Yes, it was that optimistic thought of  _hope_ that really fucked him up. It was hope that kept him there, patiently waiting for Ygritte, even more than the fear of losing her.

It was becoming clear to him even now that their situation wasn’t working out as he expected.

Grenn and Pyp had told him many times how much they envied him because technically he could fuck anyone he wanted and she wouldn't consider it cheating. Jon could understand their point of view, and he knew that a lot of guys would most definitely not complain if they were in his position, but it was simply  _not for him_. In all honesty, he felt heartbroken, mad at himself for never working up the courage to give her an ultimatum, to finally make her  _choose_.

In the year and a half of their so-called "relationship", he never cheated once on her; not even a drunken kiss. Ygritte, on the other hand, definitely did. A month ago she left for a road-tripping adventure in Essos with some of her friends, and unfortunately with Mance Rayder. Jon knew they were fucking, he knew they did it from even before he and Ygritte met. Gods, the guy was  _old as fuck_ , and he honestly couldn't even begin to comprehend what she saw in him. Jon’s self-esteem was at a historical lowest point and the more he brooded about the whole ordeal, the more he felt like he meant absolutely nothing to her from the beginning.

He heard a notification sound from his phone. Lazily, he swiped his finger on the screen only to see that she  _finally_ wrote him a message.

_Hey, pretty boy! Sorry I didn't answer, the signal is weak AF and we're always on the run! 2 more weeks and we can see each other! Can't wait! Love xxx - Y._

Sighing loudly, he threw the phone as far from him as he could, aiming for Robb's empty bed at the other side of the room. Jon laid back on his bed and stared blankly at the ceiling until he finally drifted into a restless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Were you expecting love at first sight? Sorry not sorry. I did warned it was going to be a slow burn. :P
> 
> Next chapter: Lyanna, Rhaegar and a coffee maker! Meet Margaery! Also Missy and Dany bonding (the sisterhood is going to be intense).


	4. Leap of Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyanna, Rhaegar and a coffee maker! Meet Margaery! Also Missy and Dany bonding (intense sisterhood ahead!).
> 
> *this chapter is provided to you by "Cocaine" by Eric Clapton*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to LustOnMyFingers and Enygma0710 for betaing this chapter. You're the best!
> 
> Moodboard by justwanderingneverlost.
> 
> As usual, let me know what you think and what would you like to see. This fic is only halfway planned for now, so I'm pretty open to suggestions!

LYANNA

Again. The damn coffee maker was out of order _again_. She almost wanted to cry. The office was being hectic today, and she wouldn't be able to endure it without caffeine. _Lots of._ Maybe the break room on the floor below? Yes, that was a possible solution. Or she could find any kind of excuse to talk to Barristan and go two floors above. They even had better coffee there, the damn executives, so it was becoming apparent that going to Barristan's floor was going to be the best option. Determined, she left the treacherous break room and walked to the elevator at a military pace, only to freeze on the spot when the doors opened to reveal the CEO in person. "Stark! Going up?"

"Uhm, yes, actually, I need to talk with Selmy."

"I'm afraid that Barristan is out to see a client, at the moment." _Dang it_. "What did you need to talk to him about?" he continued, as the elevator dinged again and opened at the administrative floor. She sighed, and felt too tired to come up with a good lie, so she just decided to be honest and roll with it.

"To be honest, I don't really need to talk to Barristan. Our coffee maker is broken and the coffee on your floor is better and if I don't drink some caffeine _right now_..." she ranted, hands shaking slightly.

Rhaegar Targaryen laughed so loudly at that, throwing his head back, that all the people present in the open space turned to look at them with very perplexed expressions. Lyanna was quite dumbfounded too. She expected to be scolded, or at least to receive a reproaching look, instead, he turned to look at her with watery eyes, still chuckling, and said, "Coffee seems like a wonderful idea. I happen to have a very good coffee maker in my office, and I have no intention of reading any damn mail for at least the next ten minutes. Care to join?"

She must have looked surprised because he added "You could always tell me what's going on at Marketing, in the meantime. I like to have direct reports, after all, so it's only right."

She nodded, still a bit wary, and followed him into his office. He went straight to the coffee maker and quickly put it in function, filling up two mugs decorated with green dragons all around. "Milk? Sugar?"

"Ah, no, I take it black."

"Here you are. At least now we're sure you're not going to commit a murder in this building." He extended one of the mugs to her, smiling warmly. They sipped their coffee standing right beside the machine, and she began to report to him about all the Marketing Department shenanigans she could think of. He listened attentively, nodding every once in a while.

Suddenly, a secretary was knocking at the door, peeping her head in: "Mr. Targaryen, your appointment for 11:15 is waiting."

"Thank you, Brienne, I'm coming right now."

Lyanna started to down the rest of her coffee as quickly as she could, but he stopped her with a light touch on her forearm. "It's not necessary. You can stay for a few minutes, it doesn't bother me. Really."

She noticed that his deep indigo eyes looked almost bottomless under the particular light of the office. "Ok... Thank you, Mr. Targaryen."

"Call me Rhaegar," he said, smiling disarmingly, before he stepped out of the glass door of his office.

* * *

SANSA

_Breathe._

She could _feel_ the blood pumping through her veins, flushing her face and making thumping sounds in her ears.

_Breathe._

Sweat covered her body, her hands fidgeting on their own accord, a sense of dread settling low in her stomach.

"Sansa Stark!"

_Here goes nothing._

She straightened herself and stepped gracefully at the center of the stage, chin held high. The music started to play, and she started to move with it with well-practised movements.

_Just remember to breathe, and everything will be alright._

She practised this routine so many times, and she was sure she mastered it. She worked so hard to be here, on this stage, in front of the legendary former ballerina Olenna Tyrell. Olenna had been the first ballerina of the Westeros Royal Ballet for so many years, until she grew too old to dance, and then she became director of the Ballet itself, and Sansa was so nervous and scared that she could misstep and fall and make a fool of herself...

_No. Stop it. Just breathe._

She forcefully stopped her train of negative thoughts and started counting her steps, focusing on her breath flowing in and out of her lungs until the routine came to its ending. She bowed, flushed to the core, and went to the backstage to retrieve her water bottle, while the next auditioner exchanged places with her on the stage. "Well done. You were impressive, really," a sweet, feminine voice came from behind her, making her jump, startled. Margaery Tyrell - _the_ Margaery Tyrell, and Sansa feared a heart attack, starstruck - was smiling at her with that famous lopsided smile of hers, and for a moment Sansa wasn't sure if she was mocking her or not.

"Th... thank you."

"You're welcome. You were one of the best so far. I could see that even my grandmother was impressed."

Sansa quirked an eyebrow at that statement, skeptical.

"Well. For as much as she can ever be impressed, of course," Margaery quickly corrected with a light chuckle. "They call her the _Queen of Thorns_ for a reason, don't they?" she continued, playful.

Sansa swallowed, uneasily finding her voice again, "Good to hear. I hope I was good enough to be considered for entrance into the Ballet, then."

"Oh, I have no doubts we will see each other again," the beautiful dancer replied with a wink, disappearing behind the curtains.

* * *

DANY

She took a couple steps back from the canvas, squinting a bit, evaluating from a distance. She noticed a point that was missing something, maybe more shade to give it more perspective? Following her instinct, she stepped forward to add minor touches to the area in question. The canvas was larger than what she was used to working with and the painting was almost finished. It just needed a few little touches here and there to finally be perfect... _there_. Like that. She stepped back again and admired her work while feeling a bit of pride swelling in her heart. The dragon looked almost alive, every tiny detail was well depicted even down to the slight crimson reflection on the black scales. Dany had worked on this piece for months, now, and it would be finally ready to be officially presented at the exhibition that Rhaegar had managed to organize for her here in King's Landing next month.

The majestic beast - it was a wyvern, really, not a dragon, but only other reptilian nerds like her could tell the difference, usually - was lunging forward, apparently threatening, closer to a definitely smaller human figure on the right side of the canvas. The figure was intentionally depicted in a more generalized fashion than the dragon, with a blocking technique, almost like it was... a sort of dark shadow, yet clear enough for the observer to notice that it was a man clad in black, extending a reverent arm to the dragon's snout. She named her new piece _Leap of Faith_ , anddeeply satisfied with the results she signed it in the corner with her usual flourish as she heard her phone dinging. Dany looked at the screen to see that Missandei wrote her a message.

_Hey grrrl! What are you up to in this stranger city of ours? Coming for a drink tonight at the Pit? I'm miraculously not working, for once, and I'm boooored!_

_Grrrl! I've just finished a piece, a big huge ass piece! Wanna come over to see it? I've got wine and all the episodes of Mindhunter._

_You're tempting me here, you know... Your address? I'm bringing food. Tyroshi take-away sounds fine?_

_Hell yes! 514 Magnolia St. See ya later!_

_Girl, you didn't tell me you were rich._

Dany inwardly cringed, hoping her new friend would not change her demeanour because of that. She liked Missandei, a lot: she was friendly, spirited, fierce, and she apparently made a mission of becoming her reference point while she settled in King's Landing.

Not an hour later, Missy was at her door, a bag of Tyroshi food in hand and a mischievous smile on her face. Their first stop was to see the canvas: Missy complimented her profusely, promising that she would come to the exhibit's opening night. Dany popped open a bottle of Dornish Red to go with their dinner as they settled in to chat merrily.

"So, I got Tinder a couple weeks ago... I mean, look here. Isn't he _glorious_?", Missy said, handling her phone to show the picture of a guy with a serious expression and a remarkable set of abs.

"Damn. He sure has a proper six pack," Dany hummed in appreciation.

" _Yeah_. And, apparently, it's a match. We chatted a little bit, but he seems quite shy. Which is weird, considering he's a DJ and with that body, he probably has to swat away tons of girls every night..."

"So are you going to meet up?"

"I don't know. He didn't ask yet, and I don't want to freak him out. But he's playing in a club two weekends from now, and I'm kinda planning to... _accidentally_ be in the same place at the same time, you know."

"It may work. Do you need a wingwoman?" she said, winking at Missy.

"Why not? It would be fun. At least if it's a scam we can just get drunk and celebrate female solidarity!"

Dany laughed loud, throwing her head back. "What about you?" her friend continued.

"What about me? I just got here, I don't know anyone yet."

"I know. I mean, did you have a boyfriend in Essos?"

"Yes, I did. Daario. He was quite handsome and he could be really funny when he wanted to, but..." she shrugged, indifferent.

"Not in love?"

"Yeah. It just... never sparked. Not for me at least."

"Ouch, the poor guy!" Missandei made a face and they both laughed.

"Yeah. I mean, it was great that I had this move to Westeros as an excuse because with that he couldn't insist much. He tried for a little bit, but I made it clear that long-distance relationships were a huge _no_ and he was forced to accept it. Otherwise, he may have kept up his argument about us."

"Well, to freedom, then!" her friend said, her glass of wine raised.

"To freedom!"

At that moment, her stupid brother came back home, barging through the door and slamming it shut. He turned and acknowledged the girls splayed on the couch in the living room with a frown. "Well, we're already starting to transform this place into fucking Woodstock?"

Missandei, who was in the act of standing up to greet Viserys, immediately froze and sat down again. Dany internally scolded herself. _I should have warned her_. " _Vis_. We have guests," she said, her voice cold and flat.

" _You_ have guests, it's entirely different. And this is _my_ house!".

Dany saw red. She wasn't a teenager anymore, and she couldn't stand it when her brother slipped back into his old habit of constantly trying to humiliate her. She jumped up from the couch and found herself inches from his face.

"Don't you ever try to _fucking_ say that again. This house is _our_ house, mine and yours. _Rhae_ paid for it, not you. When I have guests over you will treat them with respect! Or..." she lowered her voice to a whisper so that Missandei would not overhear the next part, "... or I'm going to have a nice chat with mom and dad, and maybe convince them that it is in _your best interest_ to go to rehab _again_. Am I being clear?" She saw her brother swallow, his eyes burning with hatred. He took a step away from her and brushed past her as he stormed off to his room, slamming shut the door like a fucking thirteen-year-old. Dany slowly turned back to Missandei, looking apologetic.

"I'm sorry. He's... an asshole. But he's harmless, really."

There was a prolonged moment of tense silence, then Missy asked hesitantly: "We were about to make a toast, weren't we?"

"Hell yes, we were."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: uhhh! What's that? An entirely Jonerys-centered chapter? Wait, is that a DATE? Or just a dinner? Who knows?


	5. Hungry like the Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We can probably call this "the accidental date", LOL.
> 
> *this chapter is provided to you by "Strange Attraction" by The Cure*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to LustOnMyFingers and Enygma0710 for betaing this chapter. You're the best!
> 
> Moodboard by justwanderingneverlost.
> 
> As usual, let me know what you think and what would you like to see. This fic is only halfway planned for now, so I'm pretty open to suggestions!

JON

"Hey, have you got the last release from Boy Harsher?"

"Just give me a moment to check... here, yes. Getting it to you now." He walked to the right section, rummaged between some records and pulled out the right one.

"It's 20 silvers... thank you. A bag?" He was giving back the change to the tattooed guy when he heard some commotion coming from the front area of the shop, away from the register. He walked briskly there to see Theon Greyjoy quarrelling with a girl - the one from the Dragonpit, her long silver braid unmistakable - over a record. _Seriously, Theon? Again?_ Theon was probably the only human being on the planet to believe that pissing off women counted as a valid approach technique. It obviously _never_ worked, often resulting in him receiving a few well-deserved slaps in the face.

"I had this before! I already picked it up, and it's _signed_!" Dany was arguing, red-faced and visibly upset.

"Well, then you shouldn't have left it down!"

"I just put it down for a second, you damn prick!"

Jon sighed loudly. "Theon. The fuck are you doing?"

Theon stilled and turned to look at him with an expression akin to indignation.

"She was..." "Theon. How many times do I have to say it? _Do not fucking bother the customers._ " He glanced at the record they were fighting over, a rare first edition of a Siouxsie's album. "You don't even listen to this stuff, for fuck's sake!" he groaned, exasperated.

"Whatever, Stark. Thank you so much for ruining the party, _as usual,_ " he said bitterly, before storming off. Dany was clutching the record to her chest, somehow still annoyed by her brief interaction with Theon, if the deep frown on her face was any indication. Jon looked at her quietly for a moment, then nodded towards her newfound treasure: "Going to buy it?"

"Yes, thank you," she muttered. She followed him to the register, and he put the record in a bag. "It's a bit more expensive than what we usually sell, 45 silvers. You said it yourself, after all: it's signed by the band."

"No problem. Here." She stilled for a moment, then made a disgusted face: "Is he... a friend of yours?"

"Dear gods, no! No, he's a friend of my cousin, really. Still, he feels like it's ok to bother me at work, the asshole," he said, chuckling.

"A friend of Arya?" Her expression was even funnier now, almost scandalized.

"No, Robb, her brother," he laughed.

"Oh." She pouted a bit now, and he felt a little awed at how expressive her face was. It was almost like reading a book, every thought and emotion translating into pretty articulate movements of her brows. He realised he had been staring at her when she quirked one of those eyebrows at him, a hand stretched out to collect her change. "Yes, sorry. Here you are."

"Thanks."

They both stilled for a moment, then she started walking towards the door. He felt the very weird impulse to say something then, _anything_ , and so he blurted out: "See you at the Pit, then!"

She turned around just slightly, a smile gracing her features, "Of course," she replied, leaving the store.

A couple of hours later he finally went to close the store for the day, pulling down the shutters with a loud metallic _clang_. He hadn't even walk two blocks on his way home, when he caught sight of her silver hair and turned to see her sitting on a bench in a small plaza, apparently with a slightly sad expression on her face. Jon stopped for a moment, internally debating what to do. He was a bit curious to know why she looked like that and was aware that she didn't have a lot of friends in the city, yet. At the same time, he wondered if she just wanted to be left alone. He unconsciously made his decision as he slowly walked up to the bench, stopping a couple meters from her.

"Dany?"

* * *

DANY

She jerked up her head at hearing her name and saw Jon Stark standing there, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, a slightly concerned expression on his face. _Concerned? Oh, I must have been brooding again_. "Oh, hi, Jon. It's been such a long time," she said with an amused smile.

"What are you doing here? I would have imagined you running home to listen to that new record of yours."

"Ah, yes. I just... don't want to go home yet." _I don't want to see my brother yet_. After Missandei left, they had launched harsh, nasty insults at one another culminating in a tense confrontation. It had been almost two days, and she didn't feel like sharing dinner with that asshole any time soon.

Jon seemed quite puzzled and slowly sat down on the bench next to her, hands never leaving his pockets. "Want to talk about it?"

"Not now." He just nodded, and she appreciated he wasn't going to insist. There was something slightly calming in his quiet presence that at that moment she found she didn't mind having some company.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm starving. There's a Volantene restaurant just a few blocks from here, it's cheap and good enough. Wanna come?"

He was looking at her with such an open expression in his stormy grey eyes that she couldn't stop the shiver that danced down her spine. "Well, I don't think I could settle down and live on this bench anyway, so... ok, I guess," she jested lightly, standing up.

They walked to the restaurant in companionable silence, neither of them feeling the need to fill it up with some random bullshit. She already figured out that Jon wasn't really the talkative type. He seemed the type that most would assume to just ignore other people, while he was really just taking his time to think before speaking.

The crowded restaurant was on the second floor of a very old and decrepit building, the facade a dusty yellow, the neon sign glowing with a light green reflection. It was the kind of place that serves good food in great quantities and cheap prices, and she imagined Jon coming here often after work. The waiters immediately recognized him and directed them to a small table near to the window.

She picked up the vast menu and stared at it indecisively for a while. There were at least four different dishes she would have liked to try and not enough stomach storage for all of that. She shot up her eyes to look inquisitively at Jon, who was glancing at his menu with a far more leisurely expression than her own. "How do you feel about sharing?"

He looked pensive for but a moment, then he replied, deadly serious, "Dany. Sharing in a Volantene restaurant is not a choice, it's survivalism." She laughed loud, and he chuckled a bit in response. They decided what to order and then started talking about random topics. The conversation continued as they began stuffing their mouths when their food arrived.

" _Dragons_?"

"Dragons."

"Your spirit animal?"

"Why not?"

"Well, like... they've been extinct for a while now."

"It's a _spirit_ animal, Jon, it makes sense anyway."

He blinked a little, considering, then shrugged with a seemingly defeated expression. "Legit. So you paint dragons?"

"Not only them, really. I paint a lot of things, but yes, they're one of my favourite subjects."

"And you make a living out of that?" he inquired, curious.

"Well, almost. To be honest, I don't really need to, but my paintings sell quite well."

"That's nice. It's cool to be able to do what you love for a living."

"Will you come to the exhibition?" Dany asked, hopeful.

"Sure, why not?" He took a sip of his beer, then nodded to a plate near her: "Pass me those dumplings, you already ate your half."

"Pfff, you should be more flexible, you know?" she mockingly scoffed, moving the plate closer to her.

"Are you trying to steal my dumplings, Daenerys?" He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "I wasn't expecting a scam. I have to warn you: I killed for far less before," he said, narrowing his eyes and trying to feign a dangerous expression, failing miserably not to grin as soon as she started laughing.

"We should just order more of these, you know. You're eating like a wolf!"

He smiled brightly, a spark of amusement in his eyes. "Maybe you just figured out _my_ spirit animal."

Something in the way he said it made her shiver a little, again. It seemed like it was an unknown talent of him, making her shiver. She turned to her own beer as a diversion, while he caught the attention of a waiter and followed her suggestion in ordering more dumplings. She took a moment to observe him, then, to study him with her critical artist eyes. Jon had a northern look about him, chiselled by the harsh environment. He had deep-set grey eyes that seemed to change colour with the light and that crinkled a little when he smiled, his raven curls were pulled back into a loose knot. A shadow of a beard graced his rugged face and drew her attention to those pouty lips she now caught herself staring at... he was _beautiful_ , and she was beginning to wonder what they were doing there. It felt awfully like some sort of date, and a good one at that, but at the same time she had the suspicion it might just have been his friendly way of offering comfort to a sad girl he found brooding on a bench. _Stop it, Dany. It's nothing. Don't get ahead of yourself_.

She forced herself not to think about any of it for the rest of their dinner. She tried hard not to notice how his dark eyes had a mischievous glint every time she managed to make him laugh, not to think of their shared dry sense of humour as it could be something like _chemistry_. They ate their dinner and drank their beers and talked a bit more, the conversation flowing as easily as breathing, and once it was time to go, she was half glad and half sad that it came to an end. They split their bill, and Jon accompanied her to the closest underground station. When they reached the entrance, they finished the last shared cigarette before he bid her "goodbye" and disappeared into the crowd.

Dany shook her head, as that could somehow physically shake away the spark of attraction that had started smouldering in her during the last few hours. She went to take her train home with a tiny sigh, hoping she could avoid any interaction with her stupid brother in the brief journey between their apartment door and her room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Arya adorably bantering with her siblings, and a very important conversation going awfully wrong.


	6. Cold War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit is about to go down, and thank all the gods for the existence of friends.
> 
> *this chapter is provided to you by "Never Enough" by The Cure*
> 
> Chapter title for Oppenheimer Analysis, because apparently, one song for chapter just wasn't enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consider this my entry for Jonerys week (it's a modern AU, after all) and submit any complaints to my lazy arse.
> 
> Huge thanks to LustOnMyFingers and Enygma0710 for betaing this chapter. You're the best!
> 
> Moodboard by justwanderingneverlost.
> 
> As usual, let me know what you think and what would you like to see. This fic is only halfway planned for now, so I'm pretty open to suggestions!

ARYA

Much to her annoyance, Sansa had been rummaging in her wardrobe for about half an hour by now. She had tried on at least ten different dresses, which all looked the same to Arya. "Where you goin'?"

"Out."

"I gathered that much, and it's still unusual for you to go out on a Thursday night. Where?"

"Jeyne's house."

"You're trying on all those dresses to _stay home_?"

"Who knows, maybe later we're going out."

Arya just nodded, as it somehow made sense. Still, she hoped her sister would quickly settle on _something_ and stop making a mess of their shared room. "Robb's going out too," Sansa suddenly added.

"That new girl?"

"Aye."

 _What was her name again?_ "Ta..."

"Talisa," her sister helpfully provided.

"So I'm alone with Jon tonight?"

"The happiness squad," Sansa laughed. "I can just imagine the conversations... he's been even more sullen than usual, lately."

"Mmh. Not so much, really, in the last few days. He's gone back to normal," she considered. _Anyway, there's no fucking way I'm staying home tonight_. Recently Jon had developed a very boring interest for old independent movies, and no amount of mocking his slow and inexorable transformation into a hipster had proved useful to convince him that a Marvel movie marathon with her would be the best way to spend a night in. She retrieved her phone and quickly sent a message to Gendry.

_Hey, stupid bull. You better have some popcorn at your stupid flat, 'cause I'm coming to break your ass at Mortal Kombat._

The phone dinged with a notification just a few minutes later, while Sansa was trying on the fifth very uncomfortable-looking pair of shoes.

_If you want my hospitality tonight you better earn it. Popcorn and beer and I might consider letting you in._

_Tsk. You're so disorganised._

_Cold, the beer._

_How the fuck am I supposed to bring all that stuff? It's late already._

_Supermarket still open for another hour, at least. Hop, hop!_

_I really hate you._

_Naah, you don't. :*_

Arya groaned, defeated. Lazily standing up from her bed, she pulled on a pair of comfy sweatpants and her sneakers. She passed Sansa admiring her reflection in the mirror and reached for the jacket hanging behind the door. Sansa shot her an inquisitive look, and asked "Gendry?"

"Aye."

"Invite me when you finally marry. I'll help you choose a _beautiful_ dress!"

"Fuck you, Sansa," she said to her giggling sister, blowing her a kiss from the door.

Arya exited their room and stopped when she saw Robb pacing frantically in the living room, _fidgeting_. It was quite a funny sight. He kept repeatedly tugging his button-down shirt and tucking it in and out of his pants. He'd stop every few seconds to evaluate his reflection in the mirror with a critical gaze. _What's up with clothes, tonight?_ Attempting to put a stop to this spreading madness, she decided to intervene. "In."

Robb shot up his head at her, looking confused. "What?"

"Keep it in. Makes a better figure."

"Thank you, sis," he said, dumbfounded. "Who would have ever imagined? Me taking fashion advice from _you_ ," he continued with a light chuckle.

Arya scoffed, "How many people am I going to have to tell off tonight? You're almost as insufferable as Sansa!"

Robb laughed, seemingly relaxing his stance, and she couldn't help but feel a pang of affection for her brother in that moment. It seemed only yesterday that they were playing hide-and-seek in their yard at Winterfell, and now he was a man in his own right, standing hilariously nervous in front of her all for a date. "Anyway, what is it, the sixth time you've gone out with her? It's obvious she likes you by now, relax a little."

Robb seemed to consider her words, then he let out a resounding exhale, "It's just... I _really_ like this girl, Arya. I don't want to screw it up."

"Then don't," she shrugged. "I'm off. See you later, brother."

She closed the door leaving her chuckling brother alone to deal with his outfit and headed to the supermarket in a determined mindset. She may lower herself to buy groceries for that stupid bull, but someone was about to lose _hard_ at Mortal Kombat tonight, and that someone certainly wasn't her.

* * *

 JON

It was a Thursday when she came back. He had just returned home from work, internally contemplating on what to eat for dinner, when a pair of thin arms were suddenly around his neck in a flurry of fiery red hair. "Jon! Oh, how much I missed you, pretty boy!"

"Y... Ygritte!"

She looked slightly tanned, her face covered in adorable freckles, a clear consequence of her time spent in the sunny Essosi weather.

"When did you come back? I wasn't expecting you for two days more!" he inquired while she yanked him from his shirt, heading to his room.

"Wait, Ygritte, how did you come in?"

"Robb let me in. He went out with a girl or somethin', which means we have the room _all for ourselves..._ " she said seductively, slamming him on his bed as she began kissing him passionately, biting his lower lip lightly. He tried to still her wrists when she started to unbutton his jeans, a confused expression blooming on her face. "Wait. Wait just a minute. I'm happy to see you too, but... I wanted to talk a little, Ygritte."

"Later, Jon. I want you to make love to me first." She silenced him with a deep kiss, her tongue dancing in his mouth. He had to suppress a moan at that, arousal building in his loins and starting to show clear consequences in his groin area. _Fuck, she smells so good._ After all, they haven't seen each other for almost a month and a half, and porn only goes so far. Jon's hands were grabbing her hips before he could even realize it, fingertips digging into her skin, his cock hardening fast, throbbing in his boxer briefs. _No. Stop it, Jon. This is important._ He relented his grip on her with some difficulty and turned slightly away from her kiss. "Ygritte, _please_ , I'm serious. I've wanted to talk with you for a bit now. It's important, sweetie."

She froze, looking at him with a dumbfounded expression, brows furrowed and swollen lips slightly parted. "The fook could be so important, Jon?"

"Us, I want to talk about us."

Ygritte settled back on her knees, still looking confused and, possibly, a bit suspicious, head cocked to the side and eyes narrowed at him.

He swallowed a bit, summoning all his courage in trying to find the right words. "Look, Ygritte... I don't think that we could go on like this."

"Like what?"

"Like... this whole freedom thing. It's... I mean, we've been together for a while now, and I think it's time to... I don't know, clarify things up a bit," he explained, unsure.

"What? You're fookin' talking nonsense, Jon. There's nothing _unclear_ , here." She was getting defensive, he could sense it. _Great_. He had to calm her down a little, or this long overdue conversation wasn't going to go well.

"What I'm saying is just that..."

"No, wait a fookin' minute here, Jon," she interrupted, "I come home after _a fookin' month and a half_ , and the first thing you tryna do is to talk about shit?"

" _Shit_? For fuck's sake, Ygritte, I'm trying to talk about our damn relationship here! It's not the first time I've tried, and you _never_ listen! And now you call this _talking about shit_?" He was past losing his patience, the bite of pain in his heart made him snarl at her like a wounded animal.

"You're not talking about our relationship, you arsehole. You're talkin' of your own fookin' problems! You're just jealous, but I'm not goin' to fookin' live in a cage just to calm down your nerves, _forget that!_ " She jerked off the bed, hastily buttoning up her shirt and left Jon to retrieve her backpack from the living room.

"The fuck are you doing, now?" he asked, exasperated, following her. _I knew this would have been impossible. That_ she _would have been impossible._

"I'm going home, you damn cunt. Come back talkin' to me once you've cleared all that bullshit from your head."

"You're being unreasonable, Ygritte!"

"Fook you, Jon," she barked as she turned away from him, storming out the door and slamming it in her wake.

Jon was left standing there, hurt and confused, his pants still halfway unbuttoned, his entire body trembling with rage. He had to focus on unclenching and flexing his fists, or else he would have picked up a lamp and smashed it against the wall. He exhaled and rubbed his face. Throwing things would not relieve his anger, and besides, his cousins wouldn't be too pleased to find their shared apartment damaged. Slowly, forcefully, he searched for a cigarette, lighting it up at the burner in the kitchen. He smoked that cigarette, and then a second one, and was onto his third when he decided he was going to go crazy if he spent the evening home alone. He grabbed his jacket and left the apartment, heading to the Pit, hoping to find Missy or Sam or literally _anyone_ that could possibly alleviate the horrible turmoil in his head, even if just for a few hours.

* * *

MISSANDEI

"Dump her."

Jon scoffed, seemingly exhausted, hiding his face in his hands. "Missandei..."

"I'm being incredibly serious, Jon. Dump her abusive arse and find someone better. I promise it won't be too difficult, with those looks of yours."

Sam was sipping on his Northern Coffee, nodding lightly at Missy's words but not daring to intervene yet, eyes fixed on the tabletop in front of him.

"I wouldn't call her _abusive_..."

"Except she is. She never listens to you, she plays with your sense of guilt, she basically manipulates you all the time to get what she wants," she listed. "Do I have to go on?"

"Ok, ok, you made your point. Geez, Missy," Jon huffed and sat back in his chair. "I know I should. I was almost there, _almost doing it_ , but she stormed off before I had the chance."

"Text her, write her a letter, make a two-minute call to simply tell her 'fuck off, Ygritte'. Trust me, if she was to dump you she wouldn't be putting as much thought and consideration as you are right now."

"I know, I know..."

"What's stopping you, then?" Sam finally peeped in.

"Honestly? I have no idea. I just... uhhh," he exhaled loudly, groaning a bit. "I just... I would at least want to talk to her. To know why I was never enough. To... find closure, somehow."

"For fuck's sake, Jon, here's your problem! It's not you, it's _her_!" Missy jabbed her finger towards Jon's head. "Put it in that insecure head of yours! I know deep inside, you keep thinking that you could've been better and that she would finally love you like you deserve, but she's not and isn't going to. Stop trying to get her approval!" Missy snapped.

Jon's eyes were going a bit glassy, and he rubbed his brow in an attempt to hide the evidence that her words hit a nerve. She felt a bit guilty to rile him up like that, but he _needed_ to see the hard truth.

"Look, Jon," Sam began, gentler, "I know it's always difficult to end a relationship, even a fucked up one, but... Missy's right, she doesn't deserve you. The sooner you end it, the sooner you will start feeling better about it."

"Right," she nodded.

"And then maybe you could go out on a proper date this time."

" _Date_?" Missy inquired, confused. _What they're talking about?_

Sam grinned at her, winking. "Our Jon here took the new girl out for dinner last week!"

"Who, _Dany_?" she gasped, shocked.

"Sam!" Jon retorted, a warning in his tone. Sam just shrugged, still smiling.

"Don't you dare to hide stuff from me ever again, Jon Stark!" she said, slamming her beer mug on the wooden table. "Really? _How_ did this happen?" she asked, suddenly excited.

"It _wasn't_ a date. I just... met her around, and she seemed sad. I know she hasn't got many friends yet, and I was hungry, so we went to eat something for dinner, as _friends_. End of story."

"Except he kept blabbing about this _friendly dinner_ for quite a while, afterwards!"

" _Sam_!"

Missy was absolutely delighted. Jon's cheeks were slightly blushed, and if she knew her sullen friend well enough, that was a _wonderful_ sign. She also knew it would be incredibly counterproductive to push him too much, but she had a better idea.

"Enough, Sam, let's not dwell too much on this stuff. Give him a break." Sam nodded, still quite amused, and locked eyes with Missy in a conspiratory fashion at Jon's relieved sigh. "I wanted to ask you a favour, really. Both of you. Look at this," she said, retrieving her phone and opening the Tinder app.

"This amazing living sculpture of a man here..." she started, showing them the same picture she showed Dany the week before, "is a DJ, and he's playing at a club this Saturday, and you're both coming with me. I need backup, and _you_ ," she pointed at Jon, "need a distraction. As for you, you just need to keep him from sulking too much," she concluded, winking at Sam. He was trying _really_ hard not to laugh now, red-faced and trembling slightly, and she knew he had understood her plans right away, the clever guy.

 _Thank the gods for Samwell Tarly_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, a Northern Coffe is basically an Irish Coffee in a world where Ireland doesn't exist.
> 
> Next chapter: Missy's plans in action.


	7. Let's Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *this chapter is provided to you by "Dress" by PJ Harvey*
> 
> Chapter title for David Bowie, but I seriously hope there's no actual need to say it aloud, eh? :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to LustOnMyFingers and Enygma0710 for betaing this chapter. You're the best!
> 
> Moodboard by justwanderingneverlost.
> 
> As usual, let me know what you think and what would you like to see. This fic is only halfway planned for now, so I'm pretty open to suggestions!

~~~~

~~~~DANY

Dany had just finished putting the final touches to her makeup when she received Missy's text, informing her _they_ were on their way to pick her up, even if she had no idea who Missy was referring to. She took a careful look in the mirror and was happily satisfied with her appearance. She chose to wear a black dress, simple but flattering, with long sleeves and a hugging form. Seen from the front, it was plain and conservative enough, even if quite short, but turning around revealed it was enticingly backless, a sharp cut bringing attention on the extensive tattoo that adorned her whole back. She put on a pair of suede cherry red ankle boots and her faithful jean jacket, then proceeded in loosely braiding her hair to keep the normally loose fringes out of her face for the night.

Grabbing her small leather backpack, she left her room. Dany froze in her tracks when she heard a feminine giggle drift from the living room. She slowly walked towards the living and entered only to find Viserys wildly making out with a blonde girl on their couch. They both had a familiar dusting of white powder around their nostrils, as did the plate and the credit card carelessly tossed aside on the coffee table. Dany rolled her eyes, annoyed, and cleared her throat. The blonde girl immediately pulled away from Vis, fixing her eyes on her with a glare. "The fuck are you?"

Dany scoffed. "The fuck are _you_ , this is my house."

The blonde chick turned her affronted face to Viserys, glaring at him. "You damn pig!"

He grabbed her hand, stopping it mid-swing. "Are you stupid or what? She's my sister, can't you see? We look the same, for fuck's sake," Vis retorted, dramatically rolling his eyes.

The blonde's gaze darted between the two Targaryens, a look of what could only be recognition settling on her features as she calmed down. "Oh. Whatever." She pulled Vis' face towards hers and they were back at making out like Dany wasn't even there. She decided it was better to leave than risk another argument with her idiotic brother.

Dany exited the building and immediately saw Missy waving for her from the passenger's seat of a black car parked right in front of her condo, grinning wildly. "Hey, giiirl! Ready?"

"We'll see if your Mister DJ is half as ready as I am!"

Missy laughed uproariously while Dany opened the car door and settled on the back seat, near a chubby guy she remembered to be the drummer of The Night's Watch. _Gods help me, what was his name?_ The guy smiled warmly at her, and very helpfully provided her with the precious info, "I don't know if you remember me, I'm Sam," he said.

"Of course, you're in The Night's Watch, aren't you?"

He blushed a little, adorably. He seemed bashful, but also friendly. Missy was still beaming at her from the front seat. "You remember Jon, don't you?" she nodded towards the driver.

"Of course... hi!" She wasn't expecting to see him tonight, but then again, wasn't he one of Missy's best friends? Jon smiled imperceptibly, muttering a "hi", before starting the car and driving towards their destination.

Missy was clearly excited due to the constant stream of nonsensical blabbing during the ride. She looked stunning, clad in a blue body-con dress and donning a gold thread waved in her voluminous curls.

The club was not particularly far, but it was still a few minutes ride, as it was perched on the side of Aegon's hill, next to the River Row. The place was called Dracarys, it was a pretty large space considering its location. The décor inside was dark in colour and illuminated with dimly lit copper lights, a large bar area and an even bigger dancefloor were set up in front of a majestic sound system wall. It was still early enough that there weren't too many people inside yet, but the place was quickly filling up. The group of friends headed to the bar to grab some drinks before heading to the second floor where they found a perfect table with a view of the dance floor below. Dany sat down next to Jon, Missy in front of her, and sipped her Mojito while chatting cheerfully with her friends.

Well, some of her friends, at least. She wasn't sure why, but Jon hadn't muttered a single word. Except for occasional monosyllabic answers to Missy's attempts at getting him to participate in their conversation, Jon was in his own world. She was slightly bewildered by his whole demeanour, as it was so different from the warm friendliness he had displayed while they were having dinner together the week before. She forced herself not to think too much about it, and to instead focus her attention on Missy, who was rambling with excitement as she devised a plan on how to approach her DJ.

"I swear, as soon as he stops playing I'm going to glue myself to his glorious arse and..." Sam almost choked on his beer, laughing and blushing at Missy's bluntness. The DJ in question stage name was Grey Worm and was quite the eye candy. Dany could tell from their vantage point that he was taller than Missy with a caramel complexion and a squared jaw. He took one of his long muscular arms off the turntable and with an air of confidence, picked up a record and flipped it in the air before swiftly switching them out without missing a beat. Dany glanced over at Missy as she leaned on the railing watching Grey Worm in action. She smiled and caught Sam’s eye; their friend was clearly enamoured.

An hour later he left the console to the next DJ in the set list. Missy abruptly jumped from her seat and all but sprinted to intercept him on his way to the bar. Dany was quite amused by her friend's bold tactics, but she, in all honesty, couldn't ignore the growing throb of annoyance she felt anymore. Jon had been silently brooding on his phone _the entire fucking time_ , completely shutting himself out of any conversation Sam and Missy had tried to make him participate in. She had just ordered her third Mojito and was starting to feel the slow burn of alcohol seep into her system. At least Sam was engaging in conversation with her, and she discovered that as soon as his initial shyness melted away, he was actually a very clever and funny guy.

Still, Sam's warm company wasn't enough to make her feel any better about the current situation at the table. The broody asshole was still glued to his phone, and she was starting to get incredibly annoyed at herself, too. _Why should I even care?_ But she just couldn't stand people being so _rude_ , that was it! Dany had tried to engage him with questions two or three times, or to tell him she listened to that Siouxie record and adored it, or that she had raved to her friends back in Essos about The Night's Watch. Nothing more than disinterested grunts had come from him in return.

Feeling helplessly infuriated, she downed the rest of her cocktail in one go.

* * *

JON

Ygritte was with him, again. Just a couple nights after their fight, she was back with that cunt. He was fixated on the picture of her drinking beer in some dumb artisanal brewery while hugging the ugly fucker and smiling brightly at the camera, _not_ even bothering to avoid uploading the proof of her absolute disregard of him on Instagram. She hadn't reached for him in the last couple days, not a single message nor a phone call.

He was livid, so utterly furious. She didn't care for him, not at all, and he was angry at himself for wasting a year and a half of his life with that cold-hearted egotistical bitch, and even more, enraged for the fact that he just couldn't let go. It wasn't even that he loved her, by now, because if he was to be honest with himself, he didn't, not anymore. What infuriated Jon was how the whole situation turned out, specifically at how she obviously never cared for him when he did. He felt like a fool, the victim of some sort of bad-taste mockery.

His musings were abruptly interrupted by a hand swatting his phone away, sending it into a downward spiral to the floor. Daenerys stood in front of him, clearly upset, red-faced and wobbling on her feet. He couldn't help but be taken aback by the heated fierce scowl directed at him. He reflexively swallowed and glanced at Sam. Sam was also glowering at him, even if his scowl wasn’t nearly as distressing as the one the silver-haired girl was now mustering.

She stormed off down the nearby stairs, headed to the dancefloor, as Sam sighed theatrically. "It's about time that someone threw that fucking phone of yours."

Realization hit him like a brick: had he been an asshole for how long now? Two whole hours? Maybe a little less, but still. He retrieved his phone from the ground, fortunately noticing the lack of any damage, and turned to look over the railing at Dany again. She was shrugging off her jacket, leaving it on some corner above a pile of similar abandoned garments. He watched as she lifted her arms up in rhythm to the pounding bass and threw herself dancing in the middle of the crowd. As soon as she hit the dancefloor, a flock of dudes swarmed on her like bees on honey. They were undoubtedly attracted by what they saw; a gorgeous girl _alone_ with red shoes and a _very tight_ black backless dress that revealed... _wait, is that a dragon?_ A fucking red dragon taking up all the space on her back, incredibly detailed and quite bold. She was absolutely stunning and clearly drunk, a pack of wasted sweaty guys mercilessly swallowing up her short figure from his sight. Jon was irritated for what happened to his phone, and a tad worried for her, and also somehow sorry for the poor impression he just did, so he stood up and removed his jacket, leaving it on the table as he made his way down to the dancefloor, grunting incoherently at his own frustration along the way.

He had to basically shove away one or two guys from his path while glaring down at the others and trying to look as dangerous as possible. Jon wasn't a big guy, even shorter than average, but he could definitely pick up a fight, and he wasn't in the mood for niceties at the moment. A sweaty, alcohol-smelling fucker was already getting handsy with her. Dany swatted his hands away, scowling as fiercely as he did with him. Jon tapped on the taller guy's shoulder, looking at him with all the fury he could muster, and threateningly said: "Get the fuck off. She's with me." It wasn't a lie, technically, and something in his voice must have sounded convincing, because the guy reluctantly went away, grunting.

Dany stood still on the dancefloor with her arms across her chest still glaring at him. "I don't need you to defend me, _Jon_. Go back to your fucking phone," she slurred out.

He held his hands up. "Look, I'm sorry. It's been a rough week."

She completely ignored him and went back to dancing. Unsure on what to do, he stared at her for a long moment, considering, until she was accidentally pushed by an even drunker girl causing her to briefly lose her balance, tilting dangerously to the right when his hands shot out catching her on her waist, steadying her. He found it difficult to take his hands away when she looked at him with wide violet eyes and an alluring flush on her cheeks, so he didn't. They started to sway together, slower than the frantic bass those around them were moving to. Was he being an idiot? He felt like an idiot, dumbly gawking at her, not daring to move his hands from her waist but digging his fingertips lightly on her silk-covered skin.

 _Of course I feel like an idiot, I would have to be blind not to see how beautiful she is_. Trying to rationalize his current state of mind down to the recent lack of sexual activity seemed to calm him down a little, even if a voice in the back of his head found that to be a constrained explanation. Dany slowly relaxed in his grip, her hands lightly clutching the front of his shirt. She was staring at him with those eyes that... _Gods_. He felt his insides burning like wildfire, hopelessly trapped under her intense lilac gaze. To escape the strong images pushing through his thoughts he tucked her head under his chin. _Better_.

He glanced towards the bar, catching sight of Sam talking to a girl with brown hair, and Missy doing shots with her acquired target. Sam would look at him every once in a while, with a weird expression that was in equal parts worried and paternalistically satisfied. The nerve of him. _Why did I even agree to come to this stupid party, anyway?_ Despite everything, his grumpiness was slowly ebbing away, and he felt something dangerously close to happiness when Dany snaked her arms around his waist, burrowing even closer to his body.

Jon honestly couldn't tell for how long they swayed together like that, but as far as he was concerned he knew it felt so good he could have spent the entire night wrapped up in Dany. However, Missy apparently had other ideas and drunkenly crashed into them, yelling "Shots!" like a battle cry. Dany started giggling wildly as Missy yanked her away from Jon, both stumbling towards the bar. Jon reluctantly followed, adjusting his stance while doing his best to hide his muddled feelings and obvious boner.

*****

Missy's shots revealed themselves to be the equivalent of the Doom of Old Valyria. The first casualty was the brown-haired girl with a kind smile, named Gilly, that tagged along with Sam to the bar. After the second round, she was carried away in a fit of giggles by her friends. Sam seemed sorry to see her go, but he managed to get her number before she could pass out. He was in a renewed spirit of chanting “Shots!” along with Missy and Dany for the fourth and fifth round but it was short-lived, as the Doom claimed him as its second victim. He was found face-down on the bar countertop, risking an ungracious fall from his stool. Jon and Missandei dragged him to the car, laying down in the backseat, while simultaneously taking care that Dany wouldn't trip and fall on her way out of the club. Missy hugged Jon goodbye and assured him that she would be fine and she would call a cab back home. She was too enthusiastic about her first encounter with Grey Worm to put an early end to the night, and Jon made her promise she would call him if she needed anything. As Missy headed back inside, he leaned against the car and watched as Dany had collapsed on the passenger seat with her eyes closed and head thrown back, mumbling nonsensical words in her slumber.

He woke her up when he parked in front of her condo, gently shaking her shoulder. She stirred slightly and stretched like a cat. "I had the weirdest dream," she giggled.

"What about it?"

"I dreamt that I was so pissed off I threw your phone on the ground." She was rubbing her cheeks, seemingly trying to wake herself up.

"That's a memory, Dany."

She stilled, eyes going wide and face paling slightly. She looked at him with an incredulous gaze, and Jon could pinpoint exactly the moment realization finally dawned on her. She gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Gods, Jon! I'm _so_ sorry!"

"It's nothing."

"No! I was a bitch, wasn't I?"

"A little, maybe, but I was an asshole in the first place."

"I'm so sorry... Is it broken? Let me see! I can pay for the repair if it's broken!"

She was red as a tomato now, looking utterly ashamed. Jon removed his phone from his pocket, waving it under her nose for so brief a moment she couldn't possibly figure out if it was damaged or not. He was probably being an asshole again, teasing her, but it was incredibly fun to see her squirming in embarrassment like that.

"Jon! Stop it! Let me take a look!" she laughed, nervously. She tried to snatch the device from his hand. He held it in front of him but quickly pulled it away as she lunged forward to grab it. He caught her wrist, pulling her towards him to tickle her ribs with his other hand. She squirmed under his touch, laughing between weak protests, and when they stopped to catch their breath she was basically in his lap, face flushed and panting a little.

They both stilled, staring at each other, and he felt like he was going to drown in her violet depths. Was it even legal to carry around eyes like that without a license? Jon seriously doubted it, as there was something almost criminal in the way she could make his stomach clench just by looking at him. She was so close now, he could feel her breath on his lips.

Swallowing, he let her wrist go. "Good night, Daenerys."

She looked confused for a moment before she slid off his lap and out of the car. "Good night, Jon."

He watched her walking towards her condo, her braid mussed and jacket crinkled. Sam's sleepy voice came from the backseat, startling him from his daze.

"Jon, you fucking idiot."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: did you miss Lyanna? Yes? Good, because she's coming back!


	8. Drawing Lil' Finger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title may be the most crack thing possible, but I just wanted a good laugh. Be indulgent, I just came out a winner from a very shitty week. I GRADUATED WITH TOP GRADES AND I'M NOT EVEN ASHAMED ABOUT BRAGGING.
> 
> *this chapter is provided to you by "Blue Monday '88" by New Order*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to LustOnMyFingers and Enygma0710 for betaing this chapter. You're the best!
> 
> Moodboard by justwanderingneverlost.
> 
> As usual, let me know what you think and what would you like to see. This fic is only halfway planned for now, so I'm pretty open to suggestions!

LYANNA

Mondays have never been a favourite for anyone, but _this_  Monday... It seemed to never end, the dark grey impending clouds painted the sky a bleak shade of grey, casting an eerie, decadent light in the office through the big windows. The work rhythm was already lethargic, and she couldn't get rid of the overwhelming sense of pointlessness. The two meetings held so far had seemed to Lyanna a complete waste of time, talking about stuff already planned only to fuss about small details that could have been easily managed with an email.

She tried her best to hide her growing annoyance and to maintain a professional attitude, feigning to take notes while drawing little weirwood trees on her notebook instead. At some point, when it became apparent that the useless meeting would have lasted at least another half hour, she gave up all attempts to pay attention and started to sketch a portrait, choosing Petyr Baelish as his model for the only reason as he sat slightly in front of her, and she could throw inconspicuous glances at him from her spot. The guy gave her the chills, as she couldn't help but feel there was something off about him, the way he snickered in mock friendliness all the time or just appeared behind other people's shoulders without making a noise. And that _goatee_ , for fuck's sake.

Lyanna dedicated extra attention to drawing said feature, while simultaneously feeling slightly appalled by it. By the time the fucking meeting finally came to an end, the portrait had been adorned with thick sunglasses, several face tattoos and a chunky gold chain at the neck. Happy with her amusing little piece of art, she closed her notebook and shuffled quietly towards the break room, hoping to satisfy her caffeine craving and get some serious work done with no further interruptions.

Expectedly the break room was filled to the brim, as her idea was evidently shared by all the other meeting participants. She was patiently waiting for her turn when Barristan Selmy's white head peeked in from the door frame, calling her name.

"What is it, Barristan?"

"Just wanted to go over some Marketing reports with you. Would you come upstairs?" he said, smiling kindly. He noticed her fleeting moment of hesitance and immediately added: "I still have to take coffee too, we can do it together."

She contained her smirk at the best of her capabilities. Lyanna left the busy break room and followed him at the higher floor and towards the CEO's office. Of all the people in the office, Barristan Selmy was one of her favourites. He was kind, clever and very good at his job, always going straight to the point and never wasting time on useless bullshit. They both entered the office as Rhaegar Targaryen was concluding a call, a disquieted expression on his face, while gesturing for them to come in and sit. He ended the call a minute later, rubbing his temples tiredly. "Mondays..." he murmured. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, sighing deeply, then he straightened his stance and went to the coffee maker. "Lyanna. Black, as usual?" he asked while filling up three cups.

"Yes, thank you."

In the past couple weeks, they happened to share a coffee or two, while going over projects and reports or while attending meetings together. After the third day or so, he started to call her by her name, tentatively at first, seemingly waiting for some reassurance on her part that she was ok with that sort of informality. Lyanna earnestly provided it, as she found that she liked the way he pronounced her name, the slight Valyrian accent giving a musical lilt to the vowels.

Her musings were interrupted when he gently placed a cup in front of her on the desk, this time adorned with red dragons all around. She picked it up and observed the design thoughtfully, tracing a fingertip over the slightly faded reptilian silhouettes.

"My sister is very fond of dragons," he said softly, startling her. He was smiling affectionately, a light in his indigo eyes. "And I'm very fond of her. She gifted me those mugs many years ago."

"They're very nice."

"Yes," he agreed, turning his attention to some papers stacked in front of him. "Shall we begin? I took a look at the projects for the new marketing campaign... They're all very valid, but of course, we need to narrow it down and choose one of them."

Barristan took some of the papers and shuffled attentively through them, while Lyanna searched in the notebook for her notes on the campaign. "What did Finance say about them?" asked the older man.

Rhaegar breathed in deeply, brows furrowed. "The funds are not a concern, even for the most costly options. We are entrusting a lot in the launch of the dragonglass tech, so we can do whatever it's necessary to properly publicize it. However, I asked Littlefinger to show me the records for the last year, and he seemed reluctant to indulge. He told me not to worry, but I would still like to take a look for myself."

" _Littlefinger_?" asked Lyanna, confused.

Both Rhaegar and Barristan stilled for a moment, glancing at each other, then started chuckling like boys. "Yeah... you can't know it. We call Baelish that," explained Selmy.

"Why?"

The chuckles grew into outright laughter. "Well... officially it's because he's from the Fingers and he's quite short. But... well, I don't know if it's proper..." started Rhaegar, eyes glistening with mirth.

"Jon Arryn divorced from his wife after he discovered them together. He started using the nickname to mock him more... intimately after the  _incident_ , the poor old man," specified Barristan, whispering in between fits of laughter.

"Let's say the nickname stuck," commented Rhaegar, visibly trying to keep a bit of containment but failing to hide his amused smirk. He cleared his throat. "Focus, guys. I'd very much like to make some progress today."

Barristan sobered immediately, and besides the brief indiscretion, they spent the next hour extensively discussing the campaign, evaluating pros and cons of every proposal. After Barristan went to go attend yet another meeting, Rhaegar and Lyanna were left to continue discussing the projects together.

She enjoyed his company; he was a quiet man, but he had a sense of humour. He didn't act like a typical "boss", he was sympathetic and kind towards everyone, humble even. Lyanna observed him quietly as he looked at some more papers, his pale silver hair glinting under the artificial light of the office. He was the most handsome man she had ever met, as there was something almost otherworldly with his unique colouring and perfect features. Lyanna was not the kind of woman to swoon over men, but the initial pull of attraction she felt was getting stronger and was an unfamiliar feeling for her.

Almost as much as the sting of disappointment at the glinting band of white gold wrapped around his left ring-finger.

* * *

RHAEGAR

The large living room was dark, silent, and felt utterly empty. For how long had he been staring at his phone? Every time the screen went dark again, he just tapped lightly on it to keep it illuminated and stared at her name for a minute more. Finally, with a breathless sigh, he tapped on the green icon.

She picked up after a while, her voice wavering a bit. "Rhae?"

"Elia, hi. How... how are you?"

She stayed silent for a beat, then sighed. "I'm fine, thank you. The weather has been really nice as of lately."

"It's good to hear. How are Oberyn and Ellaria doing?"

"Very good. The renovations are great, you know they have such a good taste."

"Good."

There was a prolonged moment of awkward silence, during which he gathered the courage to ask the only question that mattered to him.

"When... When are you coming back? I've missed you."

"I... I don't know, Rhae. It's just... home is  _here_. I want to stay a bit longer, because... I missed everything _so much_."

"... right."

"It's not about you, I swear it, Rhae. It's just... this is _home_. I'm so sorry."

"It's ok, Elia. I just... hoped for things to turn out differently."

"I know, love. Me too."

He stared at his phone for a little longer after the call ended, not bothering to keep the screen alight, this time. Truthfully, he felt somehow angry. Elia loved him, that much he knew, but she simply loved her life in Dorne much more than he could ever love a life with him, _somewhere that wasn't Dorne_. She never adapted to life in the capital, feeling restless and nervous, picking up fights with him over nonsensical bullshit just to vent her frustration. He collapsed back on his couch, staring at the ceiling, still clutching his phone in his hand. His tailored suit was starting to feel uncomfortable, but he couldn't be bothered to change his clothes at the moment.

Rhaegar forced himself to think rationally, to forget about the situation and focus on what to eat for dinner. He stood up and made his way into the kitchen, opening the almost empty refrigerator. He sighed and called to place an order for take-out. Picking up his work phone, he started scrolling to see which work emails needed a reply that same night and trying to decide if reading some reports tonight that would make the following morning a little less frantic at work.

He made his way towards the bedroom to get comfortable. Rhaegar loved working and if there was one thing that occupied his time better than his personal life it was work. He didn't have time to feel lonely while he drowned himself in plans and reports and for now, that was all he could ask for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Missy and Dany chilling, and Sansa celebrating awesome news.


	9. One Thrilling Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Sansaery for y'all, folks. It was about time.
> 
> *this chapter is provided to you by "Girls' Night Out" by The Knife*
> 
> Chapter title for Xiu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to LustOnMyFingers and Enygma0710 for betaing this chapter. You're the best!
> 
> Moodboard by justwanderingneverlost.
> 
> As usual, let me know what you think and what would you like to see. This fic is only halfway planned for now, so I'm pretty open to suggestions!

MISSY

"You have to tell me _everything_!" Dany chimed while digging her spoon into the gigantic cup of ice cream in front of her.

" _Well_ ," she began, smirking mischievously, "We did talk for a while... he said he was surprised to see me there, but that he was also happy that I went to find him. Ohh, I like him so much, Dany! He's a bit shy but so cute!" Missy took a spoonful of her own ice cream before continuing, "A true gentleman, that one. He took me home later and kissed me goodbye, a romantic kiss, you know, it wasn't lustful or..." she trailed off, waving her spoon around suggestively.

Dany nodded, interested, retrieving the dripping caramel from the bottom of her cup and redistributing it methodically on top. "What about now?"

"We set a date, he wants to take me out for dinner this Friday, some new sushi place that opened near the Lion Gate? Ohh, seriously, I can't wait!" Missy squealed, enthusiastic, causing Dany to giggle.

"I'm so happy for you! You know I expect a full report after, right?" Missy nodded solemnly.

They ate their ice cream quietly for a moment, then Missy asked: "What about you?"

"Me what?"

"Jon."

Dany stilled her spoon mid-air and looked at her with wide eyes. "What about Jon?"

Missy raised her eyebrows in her best _don't bullshit me_ expression. Dany blushed, avoiding her gaze. "Nothing happened, ok? I don't even know why you're asking."

Missy narrowed her eyes at Dany, confused. She saw how they were dancing that night, for fuck's sake. She saw how they were looking at each other. If Jon fucked this up for that damn red-haired bitch... "Nothing?"

"Nothing."

"Why are you blushing, then?" she asked playfully.

Dany scoffed. "Oh, Missy, give me a break! I thought something was going to happen, ok? But... but then he just said goodnight and that was it."

Missy inwardly sighed. She had hoped for more, but she knew Jon well enough to not be surprised that he needed more time. She just hoped Dany would be the patient sort. Dany clearly looked troubled, and it was evident she didn't want to talk about the matter anymore. She decided to change the topic, not wanting to become intrusive. "So... the exhibit is coming up, right? Are you excited?"

The slight frown on Daenerys' face disappeared in a second, replaced by a beaming smile that brightened her up like a lightbulb. "Yes! Can you believe it? I'm so thrilled! A little anxious too, there will be other artists exhibiting, I hope people will like my paintings..."

"Well, if the ones I saw at your home last time are any indication, that is a certainty. They were all great! Your new one is absolutely majestic". She took another spoonful of ice cream. "What was the title, again?"

" _Leap of Faith_. I'm especially proud of that one, it turned out pretty close to what I was envisioning in my mind. I... I dreamt about it, you know? Only, I was on the dragon's back." She blushed a bit, eyes fixed on her cup. "I was thinking about painting a companion piece sooner or later, the other perspective to go with this one..." She pondered for a while, then added, with an almost dream-like murmur, "You know, I might want to get a dragon. Like, a real one."

"Didn't they go extinct, like, a few centuries ago?" Missy asked sarcastically.

"Of course they did, silly. I mean... something in the same order, like a bearded lizard. Or an iguana. Wouldn't it be nice to have a pet?"

Missy stared at her disbelievingly for a moment, then exploded in laughter.

"What?" asked Dany, looking indignant.

"Oh, nothing... You're just... _Gods_ , Daenerys, you really are one of a kind!" she said fondly, shaking her head.

* * *

SANSA

She stared at the board for a while, body still as a statue and mouth agape. _Holy fucking seven, I made it._ She blinked, then looked again. The name _Sansa Stark_ was on the board, unmistakable. She felt... well, turmoil. In her mind, there was a mess of overwhelming happiness, pride, anxiety and excitement. _I achieved the impossible and managed to enter the Westeros Royal Ballet_. Realization hit her like a brick a moment too late, and she suddenly felt like she couldn't breathe anymore. Jeyne was squealing loudly beside her, calling all her family to share the news of her own admission, contributing to the terrible cacophony produced by the few auditioners that _made it_. A large majority didn't, and there were sullen faces mulling about, slowing leaving the studio, a few stopping to comfort a girl with curly brown hair crying desperately in a corner.

"Congratulations, all of you!" a feminine voice exclaimed behind them. Sansa turned only to see a small group from the Royal Ballet approaching, led by Margaery Tyrell. She was looking at her, a smirk on her beautiful face, and Sansa felt her cheeks heating under her scrutinous gaze.

The newly admitted dancers of the Ballet gathered around Margaery, drawn to her like she was a magnet. She smiled sweetly, then said "We should really get to know each other better, now. After all, we're going to work together, aren't we?" Jeyne was staring at her dumbly, mouth agape and eyes shining with admiration, nodding absentmindedly. Margaery continued, "We should go out for drinks tonight and celebrate your accomplishment! It's not easy to enter the Westeros Royal Ballet. You all managed to impress my grandmother, and I can't think of a better reason to drink."

A couple girls laughed at that, and everyone seemed enthusiastic at the idea. “We'll meet tonight at the Mad Dog. The table's name will be under Tyrell.” She winked, soliciting some sighs from the younger girls, and turned on her heels to disappear yet again.

* * *

She felt dreadfully nervous, tugging her metallic miniskirt down and fussing about her hair to tame it in place. The _Mad Dog_ was quite the eccentric place, impossible to find if not in possession of the proper address. The entrance consisted of a simple old wooden door on the side of an ancient palace in the city center. They rang the doorbell, which had no tags on it, and a guy with longish hair opened the door. His gruff appearance contrasted with the pristine black suit he was wearing, creating an unusual vibe to him, like he could be a dangerous man in disguise. "What do ya folks want?" he asked, a little roughly.

Jeyne squirmed with excitement while she delivered the password and the harsh bouncer let them in with a nod of his head. Behind the door there was only a staircase going underground, and then another wooden door, this one unattended. The place behind it was stunning, completely decorated and furnished like it was the '20s, the notes of jazz music filling the air over the chattering of the patrons. They were approached by a smiling guy with a boyish face and cropped black hair, who was dressed in a white tailored suit and who guided them to a small private room, where Margaery was already drinking sophisticated cocktails with some of the older dancers of the Ballet. They sat down on an old brown leather couch and ordered their drinks while joining in the conversation, in attempts of getting to know the others better.

As she drank and chatted, and as more people arrived, Sansa felt herself slowly relaxing. The place had a really pleasant ambience, one where it felt gratifying to sit down and unwind, leaving difficulties and concerns just outside the anonymous wooden door. The older dancers were answering questions about the WRB, and also sharing some quite amusing stories about the _life from the inside_ , as they called it. Margaery stood up to order a round of shots, and when she returned flanked by a waiter, she dropped herself graciously on the couch by Sansa's side, handing her a glass. "What's this?" asked Sansa.

"It is good, I promise. Cheers," Margaery said, raising her glass and waiting for Sansa to clink it with her own. Her gaze never left Sansa's eyes. They downed their shots together with the others, the group's cheerful chatter filling up the private room the brunette rented for the night.

"So?" Margaery asked expectantly, that wonderful smirk of hers curling her lips delightfully. _Wait, where did that come from?_ She was leaning slightly towards her, an arm draped nonchalantly on the couch, just shy of her shoulders. "You were right, it's good," Sansa answered as soon as she regained her voice.

Those hazel eyes and lopsided smirk were all she could think about for a moment, and as soon as she realized where her mind was going, she felt her cheeks burning and her breath behaving funny. "I... I'm sorry, I need to go to the toilet," she blurted out, hastily walking out of the crowded room and seeking a place where she could hide from that gaze for a moment.

She splashed her cheeks with some cold water, careful not to ruin her makeup, and stared at her flushed reflection at the mirror until her breathing calmed down. _What the fuck was that?_

When she got back to the room, Margaery had changed place and was animatedly talking with some other girl. Sansa didn't even dare to look in her direction, fearing her cheeks would start burning again if she met her gaze once more.

Even without looking, though, she could feel Margaery watching _her_ , throwing glances in her direction from time to time, making her whole body tingle with the sharp awareness of her hazelnut eyes' every movement.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES, the Mad Dog is a real place, and it's as cool as it sounds. If you ever happen around Turin, Italy, I strongly suggest you check it out. Also, who recognized the bouncer and the waiter? Come on, it's not that difficult.
> 
> Next chapter: did I ever mentioned an exhibition coming? No?


	10. Light & Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *this chapter is provided to you by "Chasing the Light" by Lust for Youth*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to LustOnMyFingers and Enygma0710 for betaing this chapter. You're the best!
> 
> Moodboard by justwanderingneverlost.
> 
> As usual, let me know what you think and what would you like to see. This fic is only halfway planned for now, so I'm pretty open to suggestions!

DANY

_Today is the day._

Dany felt so excited she could hardly manage to stay still. The transportation of her paintings to the art gallery had already been done a couple days prior, and she didn't have much left to do except force some food down on her clenching stomach and bother Missandei with anxiety-filled messages. The inaugural exhibit event would begin at 5 pm, and she had to be there at least an hour before to make sure everything was alright. After a light lunch, she went to take a shower and to prepare herself for the evening.

She wore a cut-out black dress paired with strappy heels and a black trench coat. She adorned her hands with silver rings and let her hair loose and flowy. When she finished getting ready, Dany realized it was still very early, but as excited and nervous as she felt in that moment, she decided to head out anyway and to walk to the art gallery. Walking was something she enjoyed, and she found that it had a much desired calming effect on her nerves at that moment. The gallery was not too far from her apartment, located in an old abandoned industrial building that in recent years was renovated and restored into an art studio with a permanent contemporary collection and loads of space to host temporary exhibitions. The red bricks of the former factory, half-eaten up by brilliant green ivy, welcomed her as she turned the last corner. She stopped for a moment to take in the sight and took a deep breath before entering.

As soon as she entered the gallery, she was greeted by the curator, a woman dressed completely in red called Melisandre. She was the one to organize this exhibit, _Light & Fire_. The red woman was quite the eccentric character, always sporting an enigmatic smirk and talking in riddles and uncanny metaphors. For as mysterious as she may be, she had always been pleasant with Dany during the organizing meetings for the event and seemed enthusiastic about her artworks. Dany chose for the exhibition nine paintings, all depicting dragons – and flames, and fire – in some fashion. The biggest piece was, of course, her newest one, displayed in a central position and dominating the wall that was dedicated to her. After checking that everything was to her satisfaction, Dany wandered around the gallery to check on the other pieces, where nine other artists were exhibiting with her. For the most part, the other artist were displaying paintings as well, but there were a few sculptures, mixed media and a couple audio/visual instalments included in the show. Dany retreated to a position near her work, when she noticed a few people slowly trickle into the gallery, she anxiously adjusted her dress as she mentally prepared to answer questions and possible small talk the patrons about her work.

More or less an hour had passed, and she found herself wandering around the gallery again, unable to keep still. She talked for a while with Tyrion Lannister, the owner of the gallery, and with a couple of the artists, before continuing on her way around the place. It was while observing one of the instalments that she felt a pair of arms intertwine around her waist. Startled, she turned around to see Missy grinning at her with a beaming smile, flanked by Sam, Arya and Gendry. "Here you are!" her friend said, clearly trying to keep her voice low but unable to hide her excitement.

“Missy! You did come!”

“Of course I did, silly. I promised, didn't I?”

She hugged the others and they shared a few words, while slowly heading towards the part of the gallery where her paintings were exposed. Seeing her friends there filled her with happiness, especially as she wasn't expecting for Arya and Gendry to come. They told her that Sam had convinced them to join, and then immediately started bickering among themselves over the meaning of a painting that caught their attention, making Dany smile widely at their antics.

The pleasant feeling of warmth the presence of her friends brought was, however, mixed with the unmistakable bitterness of disappointment. Even Arya and Gendry came, near strangers that they were, and Jon had said he would be here... Shaking her head, she forced herself not to think about it, ignoring the slight churning at her stomach, but then Sam asked to the others, sighing, "Where the fuck is Jon?"

Turning the corner, she saw his wild mop of hair standing right in front of _Leap of Faith_ , his body still as a statue. Jon's mouth was slightly agape, and he had such an intense expression, like he was trying to see something else behind all the layers of oil colour... her breath hitched in her throat at the sight. _I shouldn't be this happy to see him, I really shouldn't_. Gulping, she stopped at his side, watching him quietly. He hesitantly tore his gaze from the painting and looked at her with a dumbfounded expression she couldn't quite decipher. He swallowed visibly, turning to look at the canvas again, and finally glanced briefly at the tag in the corner, like he wanted to make sure the painting was really hers. Her moniker _Dany Stormborn_ , reported on the small white label, left no doubt about it.

“Do you like it?” she finally mustered the courage to ask, almost whispering.

He seemed to come back from a daze at that, blinking repeatedly. He looked at the canvas once more, and finally answered with a thick voice: "It's beautiful, Dany."

They stood silently for a minute, then he chuckled lightly. “What's up with you and all these dragons, anyway?”

“I told you! They're...”

“Your spirit animal. I know.” He nudged her playfully on the elbow, a soft look in his charcoal eyes. “Watcha doin' later?”

 _Oh gods, don't look at me like that_. "Well... I guess I'm stuck here for a couple more hours, at least. I was trying to sell the one with the eggs to a weird Essosi collector. You may have seen him, he was dressed in yellow from head to toe."

“Come to the Pit, after. We should celebrate your first exhibition in the capital, after all.”

"Sure!" she said, beaming enthusiastically. "Have you seen the other artworks around? They're all quite interesting.”

“You know what's really interesting?” She shook her head slightly, curious. He smiled sheepishly, “They mentioned a buffet at the entrance.”

Daenerys laughed, swatting his arm playfully. “It's not the masterpiece of the exhibit, I'm afraid. But there's champagne, so we might as well go admire it for a while.”

* * *

 JON

It had been one of those _weird_ days. Mormont had been a grumpy fucker since the morning, looming around like a hawk and making him feel uneasy while working. There hadn't been many customers, and the Old Bear had made Jon spend two hours to change the categorization system of the records only to eventually change his mind and make him set everything back as it was at the beginning. By the end of his shift, he was tired and annoyed, but Missy, Sam, Arya and Gendry were all waiting for him just outside the shop, and Missy was looking at him with a burning glare that clearly meant she wouldn't take any excuse at all. Jon had almost forgotten about the exhibit, and he wasn't completely sure about what to do. The last time he saw Dany it _had_ been awkward, and it was almost entirely _his_ fault, he realized. He wasn't thrilled at the idea of finding himself trapped in the same awkwardness again.

But then he recalled how happy she had been when she told him about the exhibit, how her otherworldly violet eyes had shone with pride while she talked about her paintings, and he felt like he just couldn't miss the sight of that glint in her eyes again just because he was being a coward. So he had tagged along while avoiding Missy's knowing gaze. _I swear that girl can read my fucking mind_. It could be unnerving, at times.

As soon as they entered the gallery, his friends had immediately searched for Dany, while Jon lingered behind a bit, gathering his thoughts and wandering aimlessly about.

That was when he saw _that_ painting.

He had to take a double look, astonished. The huge canvas called to him with its shining bright oil colours. It was almost like the dragon's glowing eyes were actually looking at him as he slowly walked up to stand before the painting. It was _exactly_ like his dream, faithful to what he saw in his sleep in every tiny detail from the shape of the beast's horns down to the crimson shade of its scales. Jon didn't know for how long he just stood there observing it, methodically memorizing it. At some point it clicked, it was a dragon painting, at the very same exhibit Dany invited him to. He glanced at the tag, seeing the name _Dany Stormborn_ on it, and loudly exhaled. Just moments later, she was there beside him, as beautiful as ever, and now he was finding himself drinking champagne at the underwhelming buffet, watching her inspect the salmon canapés.

It felt less awkward than what he had expected, yet as easy conversation flowed, Jon felt hyper-aware of her presence and weirdly self-conscious of himself. She seemed happy to see him, however, and he felt quite content to be there despite his previous doubts. _Who am I kidding?_ He was liking her far too much for his own good already.

He was rudely interrupted from his musings by a tiny, strong arm clasping his waist, apparently belonging to his cousin. "Uhh, alcohol? Jon, you should have told me," she said quite loudly. Arya yanked him towards the other end of the buffet, leaning in to whisper in his ear "You're drooling, silly. I'm appreciating the fact you're finally moving on, but you could try to look a little less like a dumb fool while doing it."

“For fuck's sake, Arya. I wasn't drooling,” he whispered back.

She just shot him an incredulous glance, arching an eyebrow that made him scoff.

"Did you tell her to come to the Pit tonight?" she asked.

“Yes, I did. I'm not sure it's any of your business, though.”

"Uff, don't be rude, cousin. I'm on your side, after all." She took a glass of champagne for herself and clinked it with Jon's before taking a big gulp. Gendry's voice sneered from behind them with an amused tone: "Gods, Arya. That's not _ladylike_ at all!”

“I would never want to strip you of the title of Lady of the Pack, Gendry!”

Dany burst into a crystalline laughter, shaking her head fondly at the ongoing bickering.

To Jon, it seemed the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: pretty obviously, we're going to share some ale at the Pit.


	11. Spellbound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'M GOING TO DROWN YA ALL IN A SEA OF FLUFF. Not even kidding.
> 
> Please, check for cavities beforehand, I'm not taking any responsibilities.
> 
> *this chapter is provided to you by "I Feel You" by Depeche Mode*
> 
> Chapter title for Siouxsie & The Banshees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to LustOnMyFingers and Enygma0710 for betaing this chapter. You're the best!
> 
> Moodboard by justwanderingneverlost.
> 
> As usual, let me know what you think and what would you like to see. This fic is only halfway planned for now, so I'm pretty open to suggestions!

GENDRY

“Oh, come on, Arry, that's definitely a human figure.”

“And I tell you that it's a demon of sorts, you stupid bull.”

"Actually," a firm feminine voice came from behind them, "It's a representation of the Lord of Light, congenially depicted only as a shadow, as it's impossible for humankind to behold the beauty and the truth of the purest form of the Lord." A woman dressed in red from head to toe was standing there, fixating the disputed painting with an intent gaze.

“Oh,” Gendry muttered, “Thank you, I suppose. Miss?”

"My name is Melisandre of Asshai. I am the curator of this exhibition and a faithful servant of the Lord." _Wonderful, a close encounter with a religious freak is just what I needed to end the day in triumph._

"This painting was commissioned specifically for this event." She stepped closer to the canvas, reaching a slender fingertip out to trace the shadowy figure, but careful to never actually touch the surface. "The artist is originally from Westeros but has served the Great Temple of Asshai for many years. That's where I met him, and knew his art for the first time."

She tore her gaze from the painting only to stare intently at Gendry, making him squirm under her scrutiny. She was wearing red contact lenses too, reminding him a lot of a witch or a sorceress of sorts. “Your blood is an ancient and powerful sort, young man.” Melisandre of Asshai stepped closer to him, placing a hand over his heart. “I can see it in your eyes. I can feel it through the powers the Lord granted me.” _This woman is completely nuts._ Arya was trying really hard not to laugh, covering her mouth with her hands.

"I am working on another exhibition to come in the near future. This one will be dedicated to the glorious generative power of the sex." The crazy woman slid her hand over his cheek, her touch light as a feather. "Performative art, for the most, with a few paintings and sculptures to accompany it. I'm looking for young men who can share their inner power with me... and the audience. It will be a groundbreaking performance, and you," she slid her hand down, now, dangerously slow, "you look absolutely _perfect_ for the part,” she concluded, licking her lips.

"Get your damn hands off him, you creep!" Arya slapped the red woman's hand away with such a force that Melisandre had to cradle it close to her chest with a grimace. Arya was trembling with rage, red-faced and scowling fiercely, and she stepped slightly in front of Gendry, effectively separating him from the crazy curator.

"I was just suggesting a role in my next exhibition," the woman tried to defend herself.

“Suggesting?? You were touching him, you bitch!” Arya shouted.

"What's all this commotion?" another voice peeped in. Turning, Gendry saw a man dressed impeccably in a pinstripe suit, a golden lion pinned elegantly at the lapel of his jacket, looking at the scene with a furrowed brow. "Melisandre, would you please come with me? You're upsetting the guests." The man looked at her with a reproaching look, then he turned his attention to Arya and Gendry, apologizing profusely for what just happened.

"As you wish, Tyrion. The Lord knows I did nothing wrong," Melisandre concluded, glaring at Arya.

"The fuck was that?" Sam looked confused, his eyes wide as saucers.

“The nerve of that bitch!” Arya was still raving around, furiously scowling at the corner where they saw the redhead disappear.

"And you!" she went on shouting, pushing hard on his chest, "Why didn't you say anything, you dumb cunt!"

"Ouch, Arya!"

She stormed off in a swirl, leaving him there with his mouth agape. Gendry knew Arya well enough not to follow her while she was still mad if he valued his life. Usually, when she got this mad she would brood for an hour or so, and then slowly start behaving normally again, if a bit coldly. _But still_. He didn't expect for her to get that mad, as she was more prone to laugh off this kind of awkward and crazy situations.

A sudden thought came to his mind, unbidden but not completely unwelcome. _Is Arya Stark jealous of me?_ It was folly, pure folly. He shook his head, laughing the perspective off, and went to search for her.

* * *

JON

Two whiskeys in and the edges of his vision were starting to blur, the surrounding conversations had a slightly muffled quality to them that signalled the alcohol was finally seeping into his system. He had been glued to Dany since they left the gallery, following her around like a puppy, and he could feel the muscles in his face starting to ache from smiling all the time. After the second glass, he stopped wondering if he looked like a fool. Arya was having some serious difficulties to stop laughing whenever he intercepted her gaze, and he was almost positive that she had been taking candid pictures of him, so he knew for a fact that _yes_ , he currently looked like an idiot. However, caring about that was a problem for Sober Jon, _later_.

"Wait, what?" he blinked, suddenly worrying if the whiskey had indeed been too much.

“I said I'd like to get a dragon.”

He laughed, a bit drunkenly. "How do you plan to do that? Going all _Jurassic Park_ about it?" Jon let out a groan, suddenly worried at his own suggestion. "Please, don't tell me you already have a lab hidden somewhere."

She dramatically rolled her eyes, scoffing, though not unamused. “Good gods, I watched enough sci-fi movies to know _better_. I was thinking about a bearded lizard or something like that.”

“Oh, right. Well, I don't know if I should be worried or relieved, but... I can actually picture you quite well with a bearded lizard or three.”

“Three, you say?” Her eyes were glinting dangerously.

“Dany, no.”

“Why not? It sure seems like a wonderful idea to me!”

“Gods, I swear I was just kidding!”

“Well, I'm not,” she deadpanned. Dany looked at him in silence for a whole minute, not twitching a muscle, then exploded in uncontrollable laughter. “Gods, Jon! Your _face,_ ” she breathed out in between fits of giggles. She was mocking him mercilessly and looking completely adorable while doing it.

Jon felt his facial muscles ache again as they settled in what it appeared it was slowly becoming his regular _oh look, there's Dany_ expression. He glanced around them furtively to make sure none of their friends was paying attention to them at the moment. “I dreamt about it, would you believe me?” he suddenly blurted out.

“About what?”

“The painting... the dragon, I mean. The big one.” _Fuck's sake, only two glasses in and I'm already forgetting the Common Tongue._

“It's a wyvern, actually.”

“A wyv... _eh_?”

“A wyvern, not a dragon. You see, dragons have four legs, while wyverns have only two, plus the wings.” She gestured a bit while explaining the difference to him, with such a serious expression one could have sworn that knowing the difference between a dragon and a wyvern could someday save lives.

“Oh.” He stilled for a moment, narrowing his eyes at her, deep in thought. “Is that... relevant?”

“Actually not that much. I guess I'm just geeking out,” she said while smiling shyly. “You were saying?”

“Ah... I dreamt about it. The... wyvern, yes. It was almost like you painted a perfect picture of my dream.”

“You're kidding me.”

He feigned a hurt expression, “I would _never_!” Dany arched an incredulous eyebrow, and he turned more serious, “I promise, I'm not joking. It's weird, I know, but I swear it was exactly the same in my fucking dream.” He took a sip from his glass before continuing, “I don't know how it's even possible, honestly. Are you sure you aren't some sort of sorceress, hijacking dreams while stealing life essence to keep yourself young, or something like that?”

Dany laughed again, mirthful. "You do have some imagination, you know? A sorceress, you say..." she looked at him with a mischievous expression, "And what kind of other enchantments would I make up in my spare time, huh?"

 _Probably love potions, and I'm the clueless fool who gets lost in the woods and ends up knocking on your door._ "I wouldn't know. Maybe you transform men into lizards."

Dany laughed again, making Jon feel almost victorious at the sound. "Ohh, that would be a dream," she breathed out in between the giggles. "I could transform my idiot brother in a lizard! He would make such a better flatmate as a reptile," she said with a wistful look in her eyes, alarming him a bit. He didn't have any siblings, but he grew up with his cousins, and he loved them to bits. He couldn't fathom it being any different. "I thought you got along well with your brother."

“The other one.” _Oh._ She seemed to want to say more, then she bit her lower lip, staring at her own fingertip drawing circles on the condensation that clung to her glass. Dany took a sip of whatever fruity cocktail she had ordered, then leaned towards him a bit more and started telling him about _the other brother_ and his remarkable tendency to act like an insufferable cunt.

She seemed to act like it didn't bother her, but he could tell that she was trying to conceal her true feelings. As she told and shrugged off the tale, her nails started scraping the tabletop mindlessly, betraying how much it was upsetting her really, a nervous twitch in her wrist as her fingers dug in the carvings and the cracks on the old wooden surface. Before he could think better of it, he tentatively reached his hand out to still hers, slowly intertwining their fingers together. Her hand felt so soft and warm against his, and he relished in the feeling for a moment, before speaking again. "I'm sorry. It's a real pity you have to live with him, he sounds like an asshole."

Dany looked flustered, a red blush spreading on her cheeks, her eyes widening slightly as she stared at their intertwined hands, but she didn't pull back. “Oh, he is,” she finally muttered.

A sudden flash of light startled them, making them break contact. "For fuck's sake, you stupid bull, I told you to be inconspicuous! You ruined all the magic."

“I _was_ being inconspicuous!"

"Using the damn flash is _not_ inconspicuous, you dork."

Arya snapped Gendry's phone from his hands, looking analytically at the screen. “You're forgiven only because it's a great shot. This is _so_ going on Instagram!” She started tapping furiously on the screen, concentration furrowing her brows.

Jon loudly cleared his throat, glaring at her. “Arya. The fuck are you doing?”

“Oh, nothing, Jon. I'm just making memories,” she replied, eyes fixed on the phone. “One day, when you will be all grey and wrinkled, you will thank me for this."

Jon could only sigh heavily, exasperated. Missy and Sam were laughing like crazy, and Dany... well, she was red as a flame, but she was giggling along with the others and didn't seem to be too bothered at the prospect of being stalked by his nosy cousin.

They eventually engaged in the conversation that was held at the table, joking and laughing with their friends, the previous feeling of embarrassment soon forgotten. Sam was well into his cups and was busy doing his best impression of the crazy art curator they met at the gallery, and reenacting the moment she tried to hit on Gendry earlier that night, all the while gaining himself some impressively burning glares from a seething Arya. The poor guy even imitated her reaction, and Arya was just about to tell him to fuck off when Jon felt Dany's hand slip silently into his, hidden under the table. She wasn't looking at him, but she intertwined her slender fingers with his, grazing her thumb lightly against his bass-playing calluses.

He gently squeezed her hand, closing his eyes and setting his mind to memorize every detail of the warm sensation that the contact evoked, sighing contently under his breath.

* * * * *

It had been a couple of hours before the evening began to wind down. Sam had been the first to go, mumbling something about getting enough sleep for classes, and when Dany started yawning repeatedly he knew she would be leaving soon too.

Arya seemed to catch on, looking at her with understanding eyes. "It has been quite the day for you, eh, Dany?" As the silver-haired girl nodded in confirmation, rummaging around to find her coat, Arya added "Jon, you should take her home. It's a long walk up to her neighbourhood, and the underground has already closed." Dany had already started blabbering about not wanting to impose and nonsense shit like that, but he simply mouthed a _thank you_ to his cousin before searching for his car keys and bidding goodbye to the others.

The ride up to her place was intermittently quiet as they commented on the music playing on the radio and the events of the day. He parked in front of her condo, and they got out his car to share the last cigarette before parting. It was obvious they were both buying time, neither ready to let go of the company yet.

As they finished their cigarette there was a moment of lingering silence, indecisiveness creeping in. The hour was late, Dany looked sleepy and a bit mussed, and oh so very lovely. Jon brought his hand behind her head, dipping his fingers in her mane of soft silver hair to bring her closer to him and place a kiss on her crown. She smelled like summer.

“Goodnight...”

He moved to kiss her cheek, soft and hot under his lips. He could feel her breath skip a beat against his skin.

“ _Dany._ ”

He finally kissed her lips, light as a feather, relishing in the strawberry taste of her chapstick and in the way she _melted_ against him, her hands clutching lightly at the lapels of his leather jacket. It was a chaste kiss, barely more than a peck, but it felt so intense it was unnerving. Jon broke the kiss, resting his forehead on hers and caressing her cheek. Dany's eyes looked so dark in the dim light filtering from the street lamps. She gave him a disarming smile, an alluring flush creeping up her neck. “Goodnight, Jon,” she whispered before turning and slowly walking up to her condo.

She was but a few steps from the door, when he called her again, making her turn around sideways. “Why Leap of Faith?”

“It takes trust, doesn't it?” He must have made a confused expression, as she seemed to search for the words. “To touch a dragon. It takes a leap of faith,” she smiled before disappearing behind the door.

He stood there for a minute more, before climbing back on his car to go home, his insides feeling like jelly moving aimlessly under his skin.

Jon shook his head as a dumb smile plastered on his face once more. _I'm so royally screwed,_ he thought while licking his lips.

They tasted like strawberry.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: the Starks have a pizza night all together.


	12. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *this chapter is provided to you by "Where Is My Mind?" by Pixies*
> 
> Chapter title for Tullia Benedicta.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to LustOnMyFingers and Enygma0710 for betaing this chapter. You're the best!
> 
> Moodboard by justwanderingneverlost.
> 
> As usual, let me know what you think and what would you like to see. This fic is only halfway planned for now, so I'm pretty open to suggestions!

RHAEGAR

The call to the Valyrian headquarters had just ended when Rhaegar heard a knock at his office door. "Come in."

Barristan entered the room with a smile and a stack of papers at hand. “Rhaegar. I hope it's not a bad moment, I have some things that require your attention here.”

“Not at all. Come, sit down. Coffee?”

Barristan simply nodded at the stack of papers, glancing at Rhaegar eloquently as to say _we'll definitely need some_. As Rhaegar prepared two cups of steaming hot coffee, Barristan started spreading some of the papers on the table, dividing them into smaller piles. Rhaegar inwardly cringed at the amount of paperwork on his desk: the possibility of leaving the office on time had quickly vanished. He sighed resignedly. The entire week had been absolutely hectic: the launch of the new campaign concurred with an important acquisition of a minor company, and everyone that week was either at or pushed past their mental limits.

He thanked all the gods for the existence of his old friend, though. Barristan's help had been absolutely invaluable. They sat down together, sipping their coffee and going over tons of documents, checking signatures, approving listing, calling and confirming schedules, writing and sending urgent correspondences, and, first and foremost, _cursing_ the timing of everything.

After a while, another knock echoed through the door, followed by Littlefinger's slender figure, with his usual creepy smirk. He was carrying some heavy-looking briefcases. “Mr. Targaryen. You asked about the financial records for the previous fiscal year.”

“Yes, Baelish, thank you. You can leave them on that shelf,” he said, gesturing to an empty spot on the huge library that ran along the wall facing his desk. “Is that all?”

"Yes, it's all. The first and second quarters are in the one with the red cover, third and fourth quarters are in green." He smirked in that annoying way of his, sauntering back towards the door. "If you need anything more, I'm at your complete disposition, Mr. Targaryen," he said like he was doing him a favour as he left the office. The guy annoyed Rhaegar incredibly, but he was undeniably good at his job and he had climbed the corporate ladder in a ridiculously short time. Shaking his head to focus once more, he called Brienne on the interphone. Only moments later his ever dutiful secretary was at the door, an expectant expression in her eyes.

"Come in, Brienne. Please, take those briefcases there, yes, right there." He directed her with a gesture, nodding towards the shelf. "Those are the financial records for the previous fiscal year. I'd like for you to check them and compare with the digital data. Any anomalies, any data you think might be unusual or unexpected, you report to me." Brienne nodded solemnly in response, pinning the huge briefcases under her arm. "Would you need anything else, Mr. Targaryen?"

“No, that would be all. Thank you, Brienne.”

The tall blonde woman scampered out of the office, the clacking of her short heels resonating on the white marble floor.

“Poor Brienne, she's going to have a hell of a weekend with that assignment,” commented Barristan, while gesturing for Rhaegar to sign a few more reports.

Rhaegar sighed and turned his attention back to the papers. "Yes, but she's one of the few I really trust to do a good job, here. The Valyrian headquarters had had some unexpected problems on their part, and I want to double-check everything before we finalize the campaign. Call me old school if you wish, but I still believe in hard copy records."

Barristan chuckled under his breath, a fond expression in his eyes, "You've always been an old soul at heart, son!"

* * *

LYANNA

Lyanna glanced at the clock for the fourth time in ten minutes, sighing. _It's already 7 and I've barely put a dent in this pile of work_. Resigned, she pushed on with her tasks, hoping to successfully wrap at least _something_ up before the weekend. She sent a group text to her nephews and nieces, warning them that she will probably be a little late for their planned dinner together.

 _Littlefinger_ was looming around the open space like a hawk, his usual hideous smile plastered on his pale face. _What the hell is he doing in Marketing again?_ Lately, he had been an awkwardly consistent presence in her department's offices, and she couldn't honestly wrap her head around as to why. She had asked a few times, receiving a different answer every single time in return. She couldn't shake off herself the feeling that something wasn't right. _Maybe I should talk to Barristan about that. Or directly to Rhaegar._

The thought of Rhaegar made her smile a little. Just the day before, as they shared a short break together, she had shown him the portrait of Baelish she had made in her notebook. Lyanna had joked about how it could be titled _Lil' Finger_ , and Rhaegar had laughed so hard he actually snorted some of his coffee out of his nostrils. How could that man still look beautiful while doing something this gross was a mystery well beyond human comprehension.

She tried to shake off the memory and get back to her work. _He's your boss. And married already. Don't be an idiot_. Lyanna closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and forced herself to clear her mind of any distraction. _The sooner I get through these reports, the sooner I will have pizza in my belly_. That thought revealed itself to be a wonderful motivator.

Her day just couldn't get any worst. It was raining cats and dogs outside, as the clock neared 8:30. In the attempt to avoid rush hour morning traffic, she had decided to use public transportation, leaving her car at home with her umbrella in the trunk. A huge mistake, apparently. As she stood on the sidewalk just outside the Targaryen Enterprises building, safe under the awning, she heard someone calling her name.

Rhaegar Targaryen was beside her just a moment later, a crimson umbrella at hand and a bright smile on his face. “It's finally over, eh? Friday evening is always the best moment of the week, isn't it?”

She chuckled a little at that, nodding eagerly. “Oh yeah. Today has been absolutely horrid.”

“Don't even get me started,” he replied with a sigh, glancing at the dark, cloudy sky. “Don't you have an umbrella? Where's your car? I can give you a ride,” he said, shaking his umbrella eloquently.

“Oh... eh, I took the public transport this morning, actually. I was about to call a cab.”

Rhaegar grimaced emphatically when she told her that, then nodded towards the other side of the road. “I'm parked right there. I can bring you home, I seem to recall you told me you live near Visenya's Hill. It's on my way.”

“Well... thank you, but I'm actually headed in Flea Bottom, so... don't worry, really.”

“I insist, Lyanna. It's no burden,” he said, opening the umbrella over both of their heads. Lyanna could only follow him, reluctantly ignoring the pleasant feeling of his arm lightly brushing against hers.

The black SUV was waiting on the other side of the road, and he immediately turned on the radio as they got in, surprising her a bit when she heard Black Sabbath blaring out of the sound system. She arched an amused brow at him, "Really, Rhaegar? Our CEO is a rocker in disguise?"

He laughed mirthfully. “You should have seen me when I was younger, with the long hair and the combat boots! I even played guitar in a band for a while.”

The idea alone was absolutely _delightful_. “Studded leather jacket and all?”

Rhaegar nodded earnestly, taking the road for Flea Bottom in the meanwhile. “That would be a hell of a vision in the office,” she continued, laughing.

“Oh no. I couldn't. I gifted it to my sister a couple years ago, she always loved it. She would have my head before I could get that jacket back.”

“A little rocker too? How old is she?”

“She's 22. She basically grew up listening to what I was listening to, and evidently liked it a lot.”

“Nice. I guess we could share some records every once in a while,” she murmured, “But I have to admit I prefer Slayer to Black Sabbath.”

Rhaegar's crystalline laughter was, in all honesty, a better tune than both.

* * *

SANSA

“Guys, aunt Lyanna just messaged she's on her way,” Arya yelled from their room, almost perfectly synchronized with Sansa's grunting stomach. Robb took the initiative, pulling out his phone to call the pizza delivery. “Does she want a Diavola, as usual?”

"Aye, extra spicy. Four cheese for me and Jon," her sister said. Sansa took a last glance at the takeaway menu, then decided on a mushroom one. As Robb placed the order, Sansa went to set the table. Jon returned from the supermarket at that moment, completely drenched but with a bag of cold beer cans that he held up high triumphantly as he crossed the threshold. "Didn't you take an umbrella, Jon?" asked Sansa, raising her eyebrows at him.

“I forgot it.” He placed the bag on the kitchen counter, the cans clinking merrily one against the other, and raked a hand through his soaked curls, droplets falling on the floor. _Ugh, annoying_.

“It's raining an ocean outside, how could you forget it?”

Jon just shrugged, seemingly completely disinterested, and went to his room to put on some dry clothes. Sansa rolled her eyes and took a rag from the cabinet under the sink, throwing it on his face when he came back to the kitchen, now wearing a shirt and sweatpants. “Dry it up. I like this house clean.”

Her cousin took the rag gingerly, smiling all the while, and dried up the small puddle he left beside the counter without a complaint. _Weird_.

A few more minutes and the doorbell rang, followed by the appearance of Lyanna's bright smile at the door. "Aunt Lyanna!" screeched Sansa while hugging the shorter woman tightly.

“Ohh, Sansa! So nice to see you, guys!” she greeted as Arya, Robb and Jon approached to hug her too. “I'm sorry for being late, but today felt like I was working in the fourth circle of hell. It just never seemed to end,” Lyanna explained as she shrugged off her coat and hung it beside the door. She threw her purse on the couch with a huff, then looked pleadingly at the guys, “For all the gods, tell me you have some beer.”

Robb removed a few cans and some glasses and lined them up on the coffee table, slouching down on the couch beside Lyanna. Soon, everyone followed, listening to their aunt ranting about her day. "And then I realized it was raining like hell and I left my umbrella home, for fuck's sake."

“You truly are Jon's aunt, aren't you?” laughed Sansa.

“What do you mean?”

“This dork here went out to buy beer and came home looking like a drowned rat. He didn't even seem bothered by it,” explained Sansa, a bit amused. Jon just chuckled a bit, then glanced at his phone when he heard a notification, a dumb smile spreading across his face before he started tapping something on the screen. _Weird_.

“But you're not drenched,” noted Arya.

“Oh, well, Rhaegar saved me. He gave me a ride and dropped me off at the door.”

“Rhaegar?” chimed Jon, an edge of suspicion in his voice.

“My boss.”

“Your boss gave you a ride here?” Robb asked, a bit surprised.

“What can I say, he's a kind man,” she shrugged, blushing a bit.

“ _Your boss is Rhaegar Targaryen?_ ” Jon looked stunned, incredulity in his voice. “Dany's brother?”

Arya seemed to catch on that, and she nodded thoughtfully along. “Ohh. Such a tiny world we live in.”

“Wait a fucking minute here, who's Dany?” asked Robb.

Arya smirked, a grin spreading across her face. She looked sheepishly at their cousin, then explained, matter-of-factly "Jon's new girlfriend. Very pretty, I might add."

“ _Whaaat?_ ” Robb and Sansa were both dumbstruck at the news. Even Lyanna looked a bit surprised, but she didn't seem to catch on the reason why that would indeed be _groundbreaking_ news.

“Dammit, Arya. She's not my girlfriend, we're just...” he seemed to trail off, red-faced, a frown forming between his brows, “... getting to know each other, I guess.”

“Ok, let's pretend she's not. If you're so dumb to screw this up, Jon, I really don't know what else to say. She was definitely flirting with you.”

“I know _that_ , Arya, I'm not stupid," he mumbled, clearly embarrassed, "I can tell on my own when someone is kissing back or-"

"Oh, thank the gods! I was worried you would chicken out! Great job, cousin, she's definitely a nicer catch than that insufferable red-haired bitch," exclaimed Arya, beaming at Jon and clinking her glass with his in celebration. Sansa and Arya had liked Ygritte, in the beginning, but both had developed a fierce hatred towards the older girl as they realized how she was treating Jon. Both sisters tended to be protective towards the people they loved, but Arya could hold a grudge like no one else could.

“Wait, wait, wait... does this mean you _finally_ broke up with crazy-ass Ygritte?” asked Robb, looking at Jon proudly.

Jon glanced at Robb silently for a moment. “Ehrm... I don't... I mean, we fought, ok? And then I haven't exactly reached out and neither has she... but it's not like I've been _too explicit_ on that...” he grimaced.

He looked incredibly guilty now, and Sansa could only roll her eyes. Leave it to Jon to over-complicate simple matters. “Well, you shouldn't worry yourself. She only had it coming, Jon.”

He mumbled something that sounded like "I know", before drowning his embarrassment and sense of guilt in the glass of beer he held in his right hand. He was saved by the doorbell, and the amazing smell of hot pizza as Robb brought it in, attracting the Starks to the kitchen like a pack of wolves to a prey.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: pizza just arrived! We're going to hang out with the Starks a bit more.


	13. Almost Honest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, but since the scarcity of updates on the Jonerys tag as of lately, I figured I would post it nonetheless. It's a fun one, I hope.
> 
> *this chapter is provided to you by "Almost Honest" by Megadeth (LOL)*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to LustOnMyFingers and Enygma0710 for betaing this chapter. You're the best!
> 
> Moodboard by justwanderingneverlost.
> 
> As usual, let me know what you think and what would you like to see. This fic is only halfway planned for now, so I'm pretty open to suggestions!

JON

Jon loved when Lyanna came over. It was nice to sit around the table altogether, chatting merrily while stuffing their mouths. Lyanna had been the first of the pack to move to King's Landing, back when she was only 19 years old. Jon had always been close to her growing up, thinking of her more as a sister than as an aunt, and he had missed her terribly after she moved for college. As soon as he finished high school, he managed to convince Robb to go study Law at the King's Landing University instead of staying back in Winterfell, and when Sansa and Arya also moved to the capital he had been incredibly happy as well. Bran had expressed the intention to join too, as soon as he finished high school, but Rickon didn't seem to share his brother's desire. He was always the wildest of them all, and he loved the untamed mountains of the North too much to come live down South in the hot and humidity that is King's Landing.

Lyanna elbowed him lightly in the ribs, swallowing a bite of pizza and clearing her throat. "So..."

He narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously, worried at the glint of mischief in Lyanna's eyes.

"A new girlfriend, mmh?" She took a sip of beer, staring at him intently, and he let out a heavy sigh. Jon had always kept his personal life private, but Lyanna and Arya invariably managed to make him talk just by throwing the right kind of glance at him. _How do they do it?_

“It's... uhhh,” he sighed, trying to organize his muddled emotions on the subject, “... complicated. I should really talk to Ygritte.”

Lyanna dramatically rolled her eyes, scoffing. "Oh, please. You said she didn't even reach out after your last fight. It seems pretty over, to me."

"It's not that simple. She's... unpredictable, and Dany doesn't know..." he trailed off, guilt clenching his stomach unpleasantly.

Lyanna hummed, looking at him like she was studying him. "Relax, Jon. You just met her, right? It's a bit too soon to feel guilty about untold stories and crazy ex-girlfriends, anyway."

Jon just frowned, unsure. He felt like he should at least say something to Dany, but he didn't want to upset her or scare her away. He liked her, _a whole fucking lot_ , and he didn't want to kill this... whatever this was or could become, before it could even start.

"Look, Jon. If she is anything like the way her brother speaks of her... like the way he is..." she almost whispered the last part, looking a little bashful, "then you should really take your chances, you know?"

Jon looked at her silently for a moment, then he smiled a little, knowingly. “What are you not telling me here?”

“Ohh, dammit, Jon!” she laughed, blushing. “Leave me alone, he's a married man _and_ my boss. If his sister looks anything like him, you should be able to understand me well enough.”

Jon could only laugh, while feeling a bit sad for Lyanna. Dany had talked so much about Rhaegar, you could almost think he was some kind of deity. He thought that her adoration towards her _Rhae_ was kinda cute, but if the guy managed to impress stoic aunt Lyanna, well... that was an accomplishment all on its own.

His phone dinged with another notification, Lyanna smirking at him and turning to join in Robb and Sansa teasing Arya about something, giving him some privacy.

_I'm envious. A pizza night sounds just awesome. A shame I have only Vis to share my dinner with tonight._

The three dots that indicated she was still writing appeared on the bottom of the screen, followed by another message.

_I should really get those lizards, after all. Do you think they would like to share a slice of pizza on a Friday night?_

He chuckled, picturing the weird gathering in his mind. _IDK. Shouldn't dragons only eat charred meat or something?_

_Fair point, Stark. BBQ night shall be our new tradition, then._

_Damn. I haven't had a good BBQ in a lifetime. Can I come over if I dress myself up as a dragon?_

She didn't respond right away, and he resumed to participate in the conversation at the table for a while, finishing his pizza up and laughing at the banter between Arya and Sansa. When he looked at his phone again, he almost choked on his beer.

_Kinky. I like it._

* * *

ARYA

“And then, can you imagine, this damn milf starts _touching_ him! She was trailing her hand towards his crotch, I kid you not. And the damn asshole is just standing there, gaping at her.” Arya paused to take a sip of her drink. “I had to step in and make her stop!”

Robb was laughing under his breath. “Maybe he liked it. Maybe he didn't want her to stop.”

She stilled, perturbed. Was that really a possibility? The woman was older than the stupid bull was, probably around 35, but she was unquestionably beautiful. The idea itself made her skin _itch_ , rage churning up her stomach.

"Well, he shouldn't like women who go around randomly groping guys to make advances! That's called sexual harassment, for fuck's sake!”

Sansa arched an eyebrow at her, "Will you just admit you're jealous and get over it already? Geez, you can be so annoying when you act all tough and mighty."

“ _What the hell?_ Unlike you, Sansa, I don't need to like a boy to care about what the fuck happens to him!”

Sansa laughed, a bit mockingly. Robb just looked at her with a knowing smirk, and Lyanna was now asking Jon to show her a picture of _Arya's boyfriend_. The stupid cousin didn't even bother correcting her, promptly searching for a good picture on Instagram, telling Lyanna they were _a funny pair indeed_. Like, _seriously_? Did her whole family suddenly go nuts? She tossed the remnants of her pizza crusts on her plate into Jon's face, causing him and Lyanna to laugh wildly. Affronted, she stared daggers down at him until his chuckles subsided. _Assholes, all of you_.

Looking for a way to derail her family's attention from her, she took a gulp of beer, turning to her sister. “So,” Arya started, making Sansa narrow her eyes at her in suspicion, “how's the training for the Ballet going?”

The redhead scoffed, straightening her posture. "Nice try, Arya, I have to give it to you. Well, overall it's been a good experience so far. It's challenging, much harder than how I used to train before. But... I can tell it's worth it. The environment is great, everyone has been so supportive and welcoming. Especially Margaery." She blushed slightly and took a delicate sip out of her glass.

“Who's Margaery?” asked Robb.

"Oh, she's the granddaughter of Olenna Tyrell, and a very gifted dancer, just like her grandmother." Everyone kept staring at her, clearly expecting more. Arya was glad for once not to be the only one not getting the implications of Sansa's ramblings.

"Olenna Tyrell? Oh, come on!" Sansa scoffed, raising her hands. "She's like one of the greatest ballerinas of our time! Do you guys seriously _not_ know who she is?”

They just kept staring, nonplussed. "Well, whatever," she seemed to yield. "Anyway, we're preparing for the new opera that will debut in September. We haven't audition for principal roles yet, we're still practising with the corps, but I hope when I get the opportunity to audition, I land one of the principal roles.”

"The lead, maybe?" their aunt seemed to brighten at the idea, smiling encouragingly at Sansa.

“Nah, unlikely. It will probably be Margaery, she's just _so_ talented, you should see her.”

Robb said something, but Arya was distracted by a notification on her phone. _Lommy and_ _Hot Pie coming over with friends in an hour. Up for some Cards Against Humanity?_

_You bet your sweet ass I'm up for it._

_My sweet ass, eh? This reminds me we still have that strip poker night to plan._

_If we do that, I want Dany and Missy to come too. I can't be the only girl in the bunch forced to cringe at your beer bellies when we kick your ass at the game._

_I don't have a beer belly. I work out, I have a six-pack._

_A "six-pack" still counts as a "beer" belly, you stupid bull._

_After a jape that bad, I'm never talking to you again._

She chuckled under her breath, amused at her own bad joke. She chatted a bit more with her family, letting the time pass, relishing in Lyanna's funny office anecdotes and scoffing at Robb's saccharine tales of his girlfriend. After a while, she got up from her chair, announcing "Well, guys, it's been fun but I've gotta go. See ya."

“Where you goin'?” asked Sansa. Damn. She didn't want to admit she was going to Gendry's place, as they would surely tease the seven hells out of her. “Uhm, to the Pit. Gotta catch up with the girls.”

"The girls, eh?" Jon asked. "Missy's on a date with some DJ and Dany has been complaining about being stuck at home with her asshole brother all night." He raised his eyebrows at her, smirking as he uncovered her lie to the others. "Not _that_ brother, the other one," he added when he saw Lyanna's look of bewilderment. _Damn him_.

“You could have invited your damn new girlfriend to join us instead of secretly texting when you thought no one was looking,” she retorted, making Jon assume that slightly sulking expression that was so typically _Jon_. He would brood for a few minutes, but at least he would leave her alone.

Unfortunately, the others weren't so easy to manage. “Say hello to your boyfriend, then!” Sansa sing-songed, while Robb and Lyanna laughed good-naturedly. _Damn the whole lot of them_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm off to Switzerland for the weekend, so the next chapter may come up a bit later than usual. Don't freak out in the meantime. XD
> 
> Next chapter: Gendry comes to a realization. Dany and Missy have some lovely girl talk.


	14. Fireflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of a flashback, here.
> 
> *this chapter is provided to you by "Black Hole Sun" by Soundgarden*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I managed to update on time, thank LustOnMyFingers and Enygma0710 for their super-fast beta reading. They're my saviours and the entire reason why this fic still manages to make sense.
> 
> Moodboard by justwanderingneverlost.

GENDRY

The night had been great, up until Grenn won a round of Cards Against Humanity answering _My sex life_ to _It's a pity that kids these days are all getting involved with X._ The laughter had been uproarious, especially when Lommy started to whine about the brutality of it, and he had to be reminded of the entire purpose of the game. It was in that moment that Gendry noticed that Arya seemed a bit off. She looked distracted, like she was lost in thought, and it made him want to know what the problem was, to smooth the frown between her eyebrows and to make her laugh. He slid silently beside her and nudged her on the ribs. "Hey, stupid wolf. What's up?"

She looked at him with an indecipherable expression, and he could have sworn on the old gods that a subtle blush just crossed her cheeks. _Fuck, she's been acting weird since yesterday_. The day before they had been at Dany's exhibit. “Is it... Jon? Did he fuck up?”

"Nah, he's fine. He has been smiling all day long, it feels like aliens have abducted my cousin and substituted him with a _happy_ clone or something.”

“So... you fought with Sansa again?”

Arya glared at him, the frown between her eyebrows deepening. “Would you please fuck off and stop prying, Gendry? I'm _fine_. It's none of your business anyway,” she scoffed, standing up from the carpet and rushing to the kitchen, muttering “I'm going to get more beer” to him.

He followed her with his eyes until she disappeared behind the kitchen door. His gaze stopped on Jaqen's amused face, and he asked him "What? She's fucking insufferable today."

“A girl is just confused,” he replied in his cryptic manner of talking.

“Confused about what?”

"A boy is a stupid bull indeed," he said, raising his brows and setting a solemn expression on his face. Gendry still looked puzzled, and Jaqen rolled his eyes in a very uncharacteristic way. "A man suggests a boy follows her."

 _Fuck's sake_. He went after her, albeit a bit reluctantly. The Lysene's words had stirred some resemblance of guilt in his mind, making him wonder if he had somehow fucked up along the way. He thought about the past two days, searching for anything that could give him a clue about Arya's mood. Everything had been so _normal_ , he couldn't really wrap his mind around it. Except... no. It couldn't be the crazy woman at the gallery, _still_. He sighed and stepped into the kitchen, bracing himself for the oncoming storm.

Arya was rummaging in his fridge, grumbling curses under her breath. Gendry was certain he heard a _stupid bull_ in there. Overhearing her muttering tirade just confirmed that he was indeed, _somehow_ , in deep shit.

“Arya...” She stilled, her back towards him, then stood abruptly, kicking the fridge door to close it. “Would you tell me what it is? Did I do something wrong?”

“Nah, calm the fuck down. I'm alright, I'm just-”

He cut her off when he reached out to pull her into a tentative hug, rubbing his hands across her back in soothing circles. She went still again, stiff in his arms, and then he could feel her slowly relaxing in his grip.

“Arya, I may only be a stupid bull, but I can tell when there's something bugging you.” When she said nothing, he continued whispering in her ear, “I'm here for you, you know? If I need to kick some asses, or if I need my ass kicked... you just tell me, ok? You know, I would kick my own ass myself if-”

She kissed him then, hard on the lips.

He didn't even have the time to understand what the fuck was going on, that she broke the kiss almost as abruptly as she started it, looking at him for a moment with such an ardent expression in her eyes that it made him freeze in place. Then she took the beer cans from where she had placed them on the counter and marched away from the kitchen at a military pace, a red flush creeping up her neck, not uttering a single word.

Gendry stood there, trying to make sense of what just happened. Slowly, a grin spread across his face, unbidden and uncontrolled. _She was jealous of me, after all._ He took a deep breath and went back to the living room, where Arya was doing her very best to avoid his gaze. _It doesn't matter_. That kiss was all the encouragement he needed. He suddenly wished for all his friends to just disappear into thin air, and to be left alone with her. _I know her. She will try to run_.

That didn't matter either, for he wasn't about to let her escape so easily this time.

* * *

 ARYA

She couldn't remember when she started feeling like this. Maybe this... this _sentiment_ had always been, back since when they met each other on the last spring break before college started, almost a year before.

_Lommy and Hot Pie were different, in the beginning, just a pair of silly, immature boys. They mocked her mercilessly for being so tomboyish, while simultaneously lamenting having to do the heavy work at the camp for her also. She shut them down on the very first occasion they were sent out to chop wood for the fire, managing to make double the amount in the same time. By the end of the trip, she had gained their friendship. Yoren had been somehow protective of her since the first day, seeing her so small and fierce, Jaqen had wanted to teach her his assortment of camping hacks, relishing in his self-declared position of mentor, but Gendry... Gendry... he always looked at her in that way of his, proud and open and full of admiration. He never tried to change her. He had always been her friend._

Looking back at it now, she had had a crush on him all along. He was bright and strong and handsome, and he could always make her laugh. He didn't _treat her like a girl_ , he always saw her just as _Arya_. In a heartbeat, they fell into their roles as best friends, bonding immediately, always together. When did he start feeling like _home_?

 _The Gods Eye's water felt cold and crisp against her naked skin. It was the last night of the Adventure Travel that her parents had gifted her for her last year of high school, and she had travelled the Westerlands and the Riverlands for almost a fortnight now. It had been one of the funniest trips of her life, and she had made more friends that she could hope for. Swimming lazily in the big, calm lake, looking at the moonlight reflecting off the surface while the glimmering lights of the fireflies littered the lake's shores had felt so intensely melancholic._ It's over already _, Arya thought longingly. Suddenly she felt a pair of strong hands grasping around her waist, Gendry's laughter as he splashed water all over her, his muscles moving sinuously under his tanned skin. He was grinning like a fool, raking a hand through his short dark hair, the droplets sliding enticingly over the cords and hollows of his neck. She was grateful for the darkness, as she could feel her cheeks burning mercilessly at the thought of his nakedness hidden underwater._

Arya forced herself to look at her cards, to concentrate on the game, on her friends, on anything save for his scorching gaze over her hunched figure. Was she just imagining it? Arya didn't dare to look. _Stupid, stupid girl_. She couldn't believe that she had done it. She had relished in their closeness for a year, thinking that it could be enough, that it _had_ to be enough. They were friends, and that was it. They _were_ friends, right? Did she ruin everything with that kiss? Unfortunately, the stupid bull knew her far too well to buy the alcohol's excuse. She would just have to endure this embarrassment a bit more, and then she could go back home and pretend _that_ never happened.

_He greeted her last, like he wanted to dedicate more time to her. No doubt her eyes were watery already, but if he noticed, he didn't say anything about it. They hugged fiercely, her tiny bones almost complaining under the strong grip of his arms. She dipped her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent. “Goodbye, Arry,” he whispered softly, squeezing her shoulders with familiarity. “Goodbye, stupid bull. Write to me.” He nodded, and let her go. She watched his silhouette becoming smaller as the train back to Winterfell left Harrentown's Station. In that exact moment, she made her final decision on the matter that had been gnawing at her for months. She would go to King's Landing University._

She tried to sneak out with Jaqen when he declared that he was about to go home. The enigmatic man didn't say anything but shot her a pointed look that made her feel quite uneasy, like he could see right through her cowardly intentions. Arya wasn't the kind to flinch easily, but _that_ look did the trick. Soon, the other guys left too. She was about to put her shoes on and leave with Grenn, when Gendry grasped her wrist gently, a pleading look in his blue eyes as he halted her departure. How was she supposed to resist that? No, Arya wasn't a coward, and she would face his rejection with all the dignity of a warrior. She would joke about it, play it down to a stupid mistake, and they would be back at being best buddies again. After all, he never showed he wanted to be anything more than that.

“Arya...”

“Don't make such a fuss, Gendry. It's really not necessary.”

He sighed, wearily. “Just stay a little bit longer. _Please_.”

Grenn shot her a puzzled look, and she nodded for him to go without her. She was a warrior. She could take it.

The door closed behind Grenn's back, and she turned to face Gendry, her arms crossed in front of her chest, an annoyed expression to conceal her heartbreak. She expected for him to stutter, the stupid bull, always so bold but also so cautious when it came to her.

She expected many things, but certainly not to be pinned against the door, Gendry's lips on hers and his tongue tentatively exploring her mouth. Arya let out a low growl of surprise, kissing him back with the same kind of impetuosity. _Is he drunk?_ No, she had seen Gendry get drunk her fair share of times. He was nowhere near close to it. She felt her heart thumping against her ribcage, a deliciously sweet ache at the thought that _he was kissing her because he liked her_.

They broke their kiss after what felt like a lifetime, only to take a much-needed intake of air. "The fuck are you doing, stupid bull?"

“I'm kissing you, quite obviously.”

“Why? Why now?”

“I never thought you liked me.” _What?_ Arya looked at him intently to detect his mockery, but she saw only raw honesty in his light eyes. _A stupid bull indeed._ She yanked him towards her from the front of his shirt, kissing him again, nipping and biting at his lips, making him moan delightfully. _A stupid bull and a stupid girl. What a pair we are._ “We're such idiots,” she whispered breathlessly in between kisses.

He nodded against her neck, murmuring his agreement mindlessly, licking at the spot behind her ear. Frenzied, she grabbed his arm and yanked him towards the couch, stripping him of his clothes as quickly as she could manage, while he returned the favour on hers. Naked skin sliding against naked skin, they dropped on the couch, his body over hers, the press of his hard cock against her thighs. "Arya..." he breathed while suckling on her breasts.

“Mhhh-mh?” The pleasure was unbearable. She had wanted this for so, so long, and never really considered it as more than a silly, unrequited fantasy.

“I don't have any condoms.” She flung her eyes open, disappointment and annoyance taking over. Arya scowled at him for a moment, then dropped her head back on the couch with a sound that was in-between a moan of pleasure and a growl of frustration when he continued exploring her body with his hands and his mouth as if what he just said wasn't a big deal.

“You stupid bull...” she sighed, biting her lower lip to keep herself from moaning too loud when he started kissing her soaked cunt.

He stopped for a moment to smirk down at her. “I will have them next time. That's a promise,” he said before focusing back on his task.

* * *

MISSANDEI

The White Walker was one of the most famous bars in Flea Bottom, one of the first to open, back when the neighbourhood was still considered a cutthroats' nest. It has been years since then, the whole area now entirely transformed and even gaining enthusiastic mentions in travel guides, but the White Walker never changed. The place was relatively small, with big windows looking over a narrow alley covered in graffiti, and the interior of the otherworldly place was a cavernous, skeletal structure covered by double arches of vertebrae that crisscrossed the vaulted ceiling of what had been an old winesink in the past. Every other detail, from the bar counter to the gigantic rotating chairs – almost shaped as thrones of sorts, those –, from the majestic mirrors to the tiles on the floor, was designed to resemble and feel like you were sitting in the skeletal remains of a Leviathan.

Dany had been gaping around for a solid fifteen minutes by now, sipping on her Dark Shadow intently.

“Missy.”

“What?” Missy arched an eyebrow at her, amused at Dany's childlike fascination.

“This place is _dope_! How come you never brought me here before?”

Missy chuckled over her cocktail, shaking her head fondly. She had no doubt someone like Dany could appreciate the dark aesthetic of the place.

“This makes a great idea for a new series of paintings, you know? Dragon bones and skulls and stuff like this... how awesome would it be?”

"Missy, you're a genius!" She seemed lost in thought for a moment, then exploded in uncontrollable laughter. "Oh, I can already imagine the art critics and their interpretative bullshit! _Here the artist explores a dark time of her life, coping with whatever pretentious personal trauma we made up with the constant depiction of death..._ while in truth I just had a cocktail with my best friend when inspiration struck.”

“They do that kind of stuff, don't they?”

“All the fucking time, I swear.”

They took some selfies together, carefully trying to include as many bones as possible in the pictures, and chatted for a while.

“So, let's talk Grey Worm,” Dany said cheerfully, a smirk on her face.

“Uhm,” Missy gulped a bit of her cocktail, thinking about the date they had just the day before. “It went _extremely_ well! His real name is Greyson, by the way. We talked and... it turns out we have so much in common! It was like we have known each other for a lifetime, you know? He's a bit on the shyer side, but once he relaxes he's a really interesting guy. Would you ever guess he has a passion for history? Especially ancient war tactics."

"Don't tell me he spent your date talking about that, please."

“No, of course not.” She blushed. “But I may... have an interest in that as well... I mean, not war tactics, but... ancient history? And... I think we geeked out on that for a while.”

Dany laughed mirthfully, patting her hand in a comforting gesture. "It's fine, Missy. I didn't know you were hiding a historian under that gorgeous dress, that's all. You know what they say, couples who nerd together stay together."

"True, so very true!" Missy said, pausing to take a sip of her drink. "Anyway, we didn't have sex yet. We... I think we want to take it slow, you know? It's a bit scary, it leaves too much time to get paranoid, but... it's also refreshing. For once I'd like to try not to rush things."

“Well, he will still need to be Pit-approved sooner or later, you know that, right?”

"Of course, silly. Jon already told me he's planning another show there in a short while. He wants to call some friends of his, so we will have three or four bands playing this time. I will ask Grey to come, too."

“Oh? Like a rock fair? When?”

“Two weeks from now, more or less. Didn't he tell you that?”

“No, he didn't.” Dany chewed the tip of her straw pensively, then frowned. “What if he didn't tell me because he didn't want to?”

“Oh, for fuck's sake.” Missy dramatically rolled her eyes, sighing loudly. “He's just a dork, Dany, none of that mental masturbation, not on my watch. He's just probably waiting to organize the actual thing before inviting you to it.”

Dany seemingly relaxed a bit, smiling warmly at Missandei. “Anyway, he does like you, you know?” Missy continued in a more serious tone.

“Well... he kissed me when he took me home. I mean, it was a chaste kiss, but still... and we've messaged ever since. I just... I just don't know him, Missy, not yet, not _really_. And I've already had my fill of two-faced _nice guys_.”

“Jon is not like that, Dany. I know him.” She sounded convincing enough, and Dany beamed hopefully at her. _Girl's got a crush_. Missy was genuinely happy for them. She liked Dany immediately when they met and bonded with her fast enough to develop a proper adoration of the silver-haired girl. And knowing Jon and his chronic jinx with women, Dany seemed like the answer to his wildest prayers. She would have to have a nice chat with him, she thought, just to be sure he wouldn't fuck this up. _That's what friends do, after all. Right?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The White Walker is HEAVILY inspired on a real place. If you're a fan of the Alien saga, you're gonna like this. Saturday I went visiting the H. R. Giger's Museum in Gruyères, Switzerland. For those who don't know, Giger was the artist who designed the Xenomorph and the spaceship from the Alien's saga, and was absolutely nuts. The White Walker is basically the museum's bar, and the Dark Shadow is a lovely mixture of black vodka, coke and green lemon. It tastes somehow like blueberries, even if it has no blueberries at all amidst the ingredients, lol. Anyway, I strongly recommend taking a look at these pictures, at the very least: http://www.hrgiger.com/barmuseum.htm
> 
> Next chapter: Sansa dances. Jon plans something. Meet Tormund!


	15. Shine On You Crazy Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *this chapter is provided to you by "Shine On You Crazy Diamond" by Pink Floyd (LOL, you don't say?)*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to LustOnMyFingers and Enygma0710 for betaing this chapter. You're the best!
> 
> Moodboard by justwanderingneverlost.
> 
> As usual, let me know what you think and what would you like to see. This fic is only halfway planned for now, so I'm pretty open to suggestions!

ARYA

“Arya?”

“What now?”

“Is that...” her sister asked, inspecting her neck, “... a hickey?”

 _Fuck_. "Of course not. It's... a bruise. Yep. Got it at practice." She tugged at her flannel, trying to cover up the physical evidence of her... _new relationship_ , without much success.

Sansa arched an incredulous eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Sure. Is practice also the reason why you didn't come home to sleep _three times_ this week?”

“What?” Jon and Robb shouted at the same time. “Who do we have to kill?” joked her brother, the amused smirk on his face ruining his attempt at looking dangerous.

"Sansa! Fuck's sake, do you always have to pry into other people's business?"

The redhead scoffed, shaking her head. “About time, anyway. That poor guy has been crushing on you since _forever_.”

“What poor guy?” Robb asked.

“Gendry, who else?” answered Jon, quickly putting the clues together. Or did he talk with Gendry? Arya seriously hoped not. As chill as Jon was with this kind of thing, always defending her right to do whatever the hell she wanted with her life, he was still like an older brother to her, more than just a cousin. They grew up together, after all, and they were always closer to each other than to the other siblings. The idea of him knowing any detail of her sex life wasn't really appealing.

Arya shot threatening glances around the table, dipping yet another cookie in her latte. _For all the gods, do they have to start this conversation in the damn morning?_ “Really none of your business, ya know? It's my life, I can do what I want.”

"Of course, sis. That does not mean we're not curious to know how things are going," Robb replied with a shrug and a mischievous grin. Arya sighed loudly.

“Ok, ok. I will tell you some things. Only... do you have to grill me in the morning? Seriously? Can't you fucking wait until a more humane time of the day, I don't know, the evening, for example? Holy Azor Ahai, you're all so annoying!”

The laughter that followed wasn't really the reaction she was hoping for, but she had to make do. Sansa shook her head fondly, stealing a cookie from her plate and putting on her jean jacket. “Whatever, Arya,” she said with a teasing tone in her voice, “I'm looking forward to it, then. I'm going to practice, see you later.”

* * *

SANSA

“Up! Up with those legs!” Olenna was shouting, clapping her hands to keep the rhythm. “Stark! I said up with those legs! What are you, a dancer or a weirwood trunk?”

 _Shit_. Sansa threw her leg higher, straining in the effort. Olenna Tyrell was in a terrible mood today, even prickier than usual. Sansa bit her tongue, forcing herself not to glare at the fierce older woman. It would do no good.

“Poole! The damn _piroutte_! Do it again!” Sansa could feel Jeyne sighing behind her, frustrated.

“For all the gods, girls. What's up with the lot of you today? Hollard, did somebody spit in your breakfast? No? Concentrate, dear!” The poor girl in question was shaking her head submissively, looking like she was on the verge of tears. Sansa huffed in annoyance, passing a hand on her damp forehead. “Five minutes break, girls. I expect all of you to use this time to regain your senses and remember who you are. You are dancers of the Westeros Royal Ballet, and I expect _some_ excellence, here.”

As annoyed as Sansa was, she couldn't deny that Olenna's disappointment was well placed. For some reason, the general mood today just seemed _off_. She took large gulps of water from her bottle and dried off some of the sweat with her towel. Following Olenna's recommendation to _regain some senses_ , she started doing some brief breathing exercises to collect herself. She closed her eyes for a long moment, concentrating and trying to clear her mind. When she opened them, she saw Margaery standing in front of her, an expecting look on her beautiful face. Sansa gulped, a flutter of nervousness coiling in her stomach. _Nonsense, Sansa. What reason would you have to be nervous?_ Margaery smiled brightly.

“Apologies. My grandmother is... well, _thornier_ than usual, today.” Sansa nodded, keeping her gaze downwards, avoiding eye contact.

“I suppose it happens, sometimes. She's right we're a bit off today, anyway. I can feel I'm not really at my best.”

“I can help you. Let's pair up for the rest of the practice.”

Sansa could barely register her proposition before Olenna called them back, shouting that the break was over and to _move those asses in position_. Margaery flashed her a smirk and positioned herself beside Sansa, her sinuous body effortlessly moulding into a perfect starting position.

“We'll do it a bit slower, this time, focus on mastering the movement first. Perfection comes from mastery,” Olenna instructed, resignation and annoyance battling in her stern expression.

“She has... how can I say? A personal take on some figures,” Margaery whispered to her. “Sometimes it's almost imperceptible, but that's part of what made her so famous. Here,” she said, moving to gently grasp her leg, helping her in the _ecarté_. She gave her leg a slight different angulation, almost imperceptibly so, but Sansa felt it was actually a bit easier than how she was executing it before. “See what I mean?”

"Oh, yes. Thank you, Margaery." The brunette shook her head and kept supporting her for some more repetitions until Sansa mastered the movement. Her soft hand fluttered along her leg, very lightly so, lingering on her thigh long enough to make Sansa flush to the root. She was grateful she could impute her sudden redness to the physical activity, especially when Margaery _winked_ at her, complimenting her performance. _Gods, I hope she doesn't notice._ Her admiration for Margaery Tyrell was becoming difficult to handle. It didn't make sense, anyway, to still feel so starstruck by her after the previous weeks of constant interaction. In the beginning, it was understandable, expected even, but now... _I need to get a grip on myself_ , she thought, inhaling deeply and forcing her mind to concentrate on her movements, and only _hers_.

“Are you free this weekend?”

Sansa blinked, not sure if she heard right. “Sorry, what?”

“I said, are you free this weekend?” Margaery amused tone didn't help.

“Oh, yes, I think I am.”

“Good,” she smiled. “What about dinner? We eat, we drink, we chat for a while. Getting to know each other better and all that jazz.”

“Dinner? O... ok.”

“Wonderful! I'll text you the details.”

“Margaery! Dear gods, I shouldn't be telling _you_ to concentrate!” Olenna's voice boomed in their direction. Margaery, however, seemed almost unperturbed by it, winking at Sansa again before shooting a sweet, innocent smile to her grandmother and resuming her position.

* * *

DANY

Dany didn't know what to expect. Jon had texted her in the morning, telling her he had to take her someplace down in Flea Bottom. They had texted every day since their kiss, the tone of their conversation becoming more flirty after they had seen each other at the Pit over the weekend. Surrounded by the prying eyes of their friends, they tried to be somewhat inconspicuous, but still held hands under the table. They weren't fooling anyone, that much she knew, but it felt strangely exciting to sneak around and steal kisses when no one was looking.

Now he was tugging at her arm, guiding her in the intricate labyrinth of Flea Bottom's alleys.

“Ok, it's right there,” he finally said, indicating an old building in front of them. A high, narrow window and an ancient-looking door gave no hint of what the place could be, if not for the neon sign glowing in red and blue from inside said window.

“Freefolk Tattoo?” Jon gave her an encouraging nod, motioning to follow him inside. “Jon, wait. Are you getting a tattoo or something?”

He laughed. “No, no. I... well, it's a surprise. But the final decision is up to you.”

To be honest, that worried her quite a lot. Jon didn't seem insane, but then again, how many times a normal, quiet guy turned out to be some sort of creepy psychopath after a while? When she was still in high school, Jhiqui had shown her the cringeworthy matching tattoo she got with her ex-boyfriend back when she was only fifteen. The relationship between the two had lasted only a month, but apparently, the lad had thought it _romantic_ to gift her a tattoo on their second date. Dany had helped Jhiqui design a new cover-up tattoo, and that was it. But they had been just fifteen, young and naïve, those impulse decision she understood. However, Jon was a grown man, already with twenty-three name-days on his shoulders. He wouldn't be so stupid, right? She followed him into the shop with some reluctance.

A towering, red-haired guy with a shaggy beard, covered in tattoos was standing behind the counter. “Jon! Right about time you showed up!” The redhead moved to bear-hug him, and for a moment she feared he would break some bones in the act. Jon, however, seemed nonplussed. “Aye, man. I told you I was coming today, right?” He nodded towards her, a huge grin on his face. “This is Daenerys. Dany, meet Tormund.”

Tormund eyed her analytically from head to toe, nodding appreciatively all the while. “Damn, Jonny boy. How could you manage to catch a chick this pretty with that tiny pecker of yours?”

“Fuck's sake, Tormund, you disgraced wildling,” he said, blushing a bit.

Tormund laughed loudly, patting a hand on Jon's shoulder. “He's a good one, our Jonno. Anyway, back to business,” he continued, eyeing her curiously.

 _What the fuck is going on?_ She wasn't sure if that was her cue to run away screaming, but Jon was smiling at her so warmly and hopefully that she didn't move... yet.

“Dany, right? I heard you have quite an interest in reptiles. I have some contacts with a breeder in Dorne, a crazy fucker that one. I can get you some of those bearded lizards Jon talked to me about.” Her eyes went wide, and she was looking incredulously at Jon, now.

“What? Really?” Her voice came out in an awkward squeal, and Jon chuckled a bit, before smiling brightly and saying “Surprise, I guess?”

Before she could realize it, she was hugging him fiercely, trembling with excitement. He was laughing mirthfully at her reaction, hugging her back, and she could hear Tormund muttering something about never having seen a woman with such enthusiasm for diamonds, let alone reptiles. She thought she heard him call Jon a _lucky bastard_ , also, but she was too excited to really pay attention to him.

They discussed the details for a few more minutes, the laws concerning the keeping of exotic animals, and she had to sign a few papers for the Animal's Health Office. Tormund gave her the contacts of a company specialized in terrariums, and that was it. In a week, she would have three baby bearded lizards.

“You're... damn, Jon. I wasn't expecting this,” she told him as they exited the shop, eyes brimming with emotion. Only Rhaegar had ever done these kinds of things for her, but he was her big brother, while Jon had known her only for a couple of months. Dany's family had always been incredibly wealthy, and she always had access to anything she wanted growing up. Her former boyfriends had constantly tried to impress her with luxurious gifts, but never took into consideration what she actually _wanted_.

“Yeah, that was kinda the point in not telling you beforehand, right?” he grinned.

She snorted, glancing at him sideways. He was smiling, looking at the sunset bathing in a golden orange light the crowded, crooked alleys of Flea Bottom and its dusty, ancient buildings. He took her hand, guiding her towards the nearest plaza, promising her something about _the best Dornish street food you will ever taste_ , looking absolutely handsome and kind and... Oh hell, who was she kidding? She had a massive crush on him, by now, multiplied tenfold after what he had done for her today. Dany tugged lightly on his hand, making him stop and turn to look at her. She beamed and perched on her tiptoes, leaning towards him to kiss him on the mouth. She could feel Jon smiling under her lips before opening his mouth to deepen the kiss, their tongues dancing together. Dany wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer while Jon’s grip shifted from her back to her hips, enveloping her in his arms. It was at that moment, in that little corner in Flea Bottom, as the rest of the world disappeared and it was just Jon and Dany, that she knew she was in love with him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so. The updates will probably slow down from now on (I have to move to another region in July, and have a bunch of things to take care of. Also, had some writer's block as of lately). I will still try to do my best to provide an update AT LEAST every other week, but don't freak out if I can't. I'm never going to abandon this story, that's a promise.
> 
> Next chapter: the disappearance of Lyanna Stark (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_TfpDkutWG8).


	16. The disappearance of Lyanna Stark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *this chapter is provided to you by "Sick Sick Sick" by Queens of the Stone Age*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to LustOnMyFingers and Enygma0710 for betaing this chapter. You're the best!
> 
> Moodboard by justwanderingneverlost.

RHAEGAR

The day had been particularly productive, the sun illuminating his office from the lofty floor-to-ceiling windows and brightening up Rhaegar's mood considerably. He responded to some e-mails and sent reports to the Valyrian headquarters, and when he glanced at the clock again, he noticed it was already 11. Satisfied with how the day started, he decided to take a break. He took his favourite mug, the one with the green dragons that Dany had gifted him, and headed to the floor below. He was in such a cheerful mood, he didn't want to spend his break alone in his office. He hoped for a chat in the common break room, to meet up with Barristan, or maybe Lyanna. As he stepped in the break room, however, the only other person present was gloomy Stannis Baratheon; still as a statue, waiting for the coffee to brew while staring stoically at the clock on the wall.

“Hey, Baratheon. How is your day going?” he tried, without enthusiasm.

“It's been productive.”

 _Sigh_. Stannis wasn't exactly his favourite employee. Rhaegar could be quite moody, often getting melancholy and solitary, but Stannis took gloominess to a whole new level, making him feel like he was a jolly fucking clown in comparison. Before Stannis could pick up his cup of coffee and disappear, Rhaegar asked: "Have you seen Stark of Marketing around?"

“No. I was _working_.”

 _Well, fuck you too, man_. “Nevermind.” Sighing, he took two cups and filled them, putting milk and sugar in his own and leaving the other a simple black. Rhaegar left, thinking he would probably find her in the Marketing Department.

He encountered Barristan en route and asked him the same. The old man simply shrugged, stating that he hadn't seen Lyanna all morning. _Weird_.

To his surprise, he did not find Lyanna in her office either. He slowly walked up to her desk, which was relatively empty, her laptop missing and the documents stacked a little bit too tidily for being in the middle of the working day still.

Sighing, he took both cups of coffee with him and started walking back to his floor, planning on finding Barristan and giving the black coffee to him, lest it goes to waste. He stepped out of Lyanna's office and noticed Littlefinger smirking at him from a corner of the Marketing Department's open space, apparently talking with one of Lyanna's guys.

That fucking smirk of him, together with Lyanna's unfortunate absence, was enough to almost spoil Rhaegar's mood. He scowled and walked purposefully towards him. “Baelish. What are you doing here? Why are you not in your department?” he asked.

The fucker kept watching him with that knowing smile plastered on his arrogant face. “I could ask you the same, Mr. Targaryen.”

“I think you're forgetting our positions, _Petyr_. I'm the CEO of this company. It is my duty to check on the various departments. You, however, have no reason to waste time here,” he retorted with a pointed glare.

“Right. I apologise, Mr. Targaryen. I will go back to my office immediately.” His words were reassuring, but his expression was not. _Who the hell has hired him in the first place?_ Sure, he was good at his job, one of the best. But his personality... Rhaegar felt a chill dance down his spine just by thinking about it. The guy was simply shady as fuck.

Shaking his head, he resumed his walk to the upper floor. He searched for Barristan and gave him the coffee that was meant for Lyanna, then sat down at his desk and resumed his work while sipping at his mug. He had to review and approve a few new product projects. Rhaegar worked silently for a while, and then called Brienne in when he realized that some documents were missing. He gave her all the necessary instructions, inwardly thanking all the gods for the existence of the hard-working, kind secretary after his morning encounters, and then asked her about Lyanna before she could walk away.

"Oh, yes, Mr. Targaryen. She called in sick this morning, said she got the flu. Her voice was almost unrecognizable on the phone," she said with an empathetic expression in her bright blue eyes.

“Thanks, Brienne. Could you... could you retrieve her contacts information for me, please?”

Brienne stiffened slightly, widening her eyes. "That's... that's confidential information, Mr. Targaryen. All the employees' personal information is covered by privacy law, and only accessible by the head of the Human Resources."

"I'm aware of that, Brienne," he sighed. He would probably be better off contacting the Human Resources office directly. Brienne was as amazing a person as they could get, but she was so strict with following the rules, he doubted she could ever be bent on her honour.

She seemed to think about it for a long moment, however, studying his face. "I think... I think Ms. Stark would hardly have objections to it," she said softly, still standing there, looking unsure. "I... I'll be back in a minute," she decided, before striding purposefully towards the door.

“Thank you.” _Loyal, sweet Brienne_. He relaxed back in his chair, feeling slightly guilty for putting her in what she surely felt was a difficult position. When she returned with Lyanna's contacts together with the documents he requested, for a brief moment he stared indecisively at her phone number and address. He feared he would be crossing boundaries, but he was also concerned about her. Brienne, who had actually heard her voice that morning, had seem concerned too, and that was enough to put Rhaegar on edge. He knew she lived alone. Would somebody take care of her? Her nephews and nieces lived in King's Landing, but he had no idea if she bothered to contact them, or if their schedule permitted them to take care of their sick aunt. Did she even have a boyfriend? Lyanna never mentioned one, and he never asked.

Sighing, he took his phone and wrote her a message, asking her if everything was fine. He took a deep breath before sending it, then he forced himself to focus back on his laptop, ignoring the urge to continuously check his phone for notifications. It had been at least an hour before the phone chimed, her name illuminating the screen and his mood.

_I'm okay, thank you. I can finally binge watch tv series all day long, just as I dreamed my adult life to be when I was a teenager!_

He chuckled fondly, reassured. _I see your sense of humour is still going strong. I can call back the gravedigger and tell him it will be for another time, then?_

_Oh, shut up. I'm not dying anytime soon. Not until I will have seen the CEO in a leather jacket, at least._

_Negotiate with my sister. I'm totally powerless when it comes to her._

_As it should be. ;)_

* * *

LYANNA

Lying on her couch, drowned in pillows and surrounded by tons of tissues, she sniffed and wrapped herself up in her blanket like a burrito. Only her eyes were peeking out, glassy and fixed on the television screen. She had binge-watched at least an entire season of _The Office_ in between restless naps. It was almost time for dinner, but she felt like absolute garbage and couldn't find in herself to actually get up and prepare something edible, let alone healthy, to eat. Grunting, she was opening the food delivery app on her phone, when she heard the doorbell ring. Slowly, forcefully, she sat up from the couch and walked up to the door, adjusting the blanket around her shoulders. “Who's there?” she croaked weakly, feeling annoyed at the intrusion.

“It's me, Rhaegar. I... I wanted to make sure you're ok.”

 _What the actual fuck?_ “Oh... oh... wait a minute! I'm coming!” _Damn_. Panicked, she rushed to the couch and gathered all the used tissues together, making them disappear in the trash bin. Fussing with her hair, she shuffled back to the door, opening it slowly.

Rhaegar Targaryen was standing there in his typical office attire, a bright smile on his face and a paper bag on his hand. “Hey, Stark. I brought you dinner.”

 _No, please, don't do this to me_. “You shouldn't have, really...”

"It was no bother. I figured you would have been too tired to cook. I stopped by that hipster soup place that opened near the office and asked for something that's good for the flu. I hope you like it," he explained, stepping into the kitchen and placing the delicious smelling paper bag on the counter. He took a few containers out. "So, this should be soup, since it's hot. Here's some salad... and the bread, there. Where can I find the plates?" he asked, looking around the kitchen purposefully.

Stunned, Lyanna could only nod him in the right direction. She didn't know how to react to his presence in her apartment. There was a warmth, a delicious aching feeling in her chest, while she looked at him, so considerate, so _bright_. A part of her relished in that feeling, treasuring it. Another part of her was acutely wary of it, skirting around its edges like a wild wolf around a baited trap.

Rhaegar took two sets of plates, cutlery and glasses. He then looked at her inquisitively, urging her to sit down and make herself comfortable. She obliged, following his movements attentively with her eyes, answering his queries on where to find what he needed. Soon, the table was set, the soup looking and smelling delicious. She took a few spoonfuls of it, before giving in to the temptation of asking the question that was bugging her so much.

“Isn't your wife... waiting for you?”

He glanced at his own wedding ring, just for the briefest moment, and Lyanna feared she had overstepped. Before she could apologize, however, he stopped her with a raised hand. "She... she's not here. I guess you could say we're separating." Rhaegar seemed quite sad, staring at his ring more thoughtfully now. "I never took this off," he muttered. "I'm wearing it out of habit, mostly."

A part of her felt immensely guilty for the tiny surge of joy she felt at his confession. She wanted to kill that lecherous feeling, to chide herself and suppress it.

“I'm sorry,” she said. She wished she really could be.

Rhaegar looked up at her, smiling, before taking a sip of water from his glass. “None of that. It's life, shit happens all the time,” he said. They resumed eating in silence, and when they finished, Rhaegar offered to wash the dishes.

Lyanna staggered weakly back to the couch. “I was binge-watching The Office, just because I missed work too much,” she chuckled. “Want to stay for a few episodes?”

“If it's no bother for you, why not? I like that show. I swear sometimes Dwight reminds me of Stannis Baratheon.”

“Oh gods, you're right! He's always so serious!” Lyanna laughed. They settled down on the couch, sitting a reasonable distance apart, commenting the episodes and laughing like children. Even as every bone in her body ached uncomfortably and she had to sneeze every two minutes, Lyanna felt good, so incredibly good. She wished he wouldn't have to go away in a couple hours. She wished she could spend all of her evenings with Rhaegar Targaryen.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: A date. A suit (!!!)


	17. An Ambush of Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *this chapter is provided to you by "Brazilia" by In Trance 95*
> 
> Chapter title for In The Nursery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. Writer's block is a bitch.
> 
> Huge thanks to LustOnMyFingers and Enygma0710 for betaing this chapter. You're the best!
> 
> Moodboard by justwanderingneverlost.

JON

“Can you fucking believe it? She hasn't answered the phone in three weeks. _Three fucking weeks_.” He gestured the number with his right hand, for good measure. “And she's posting photos where she's hugged with that ugly fucker again, _in Dorne_. I didn't even know she was going to Dorne.”

“Calm your horses, dude. You shouldn't even care. What's the big deal? You wanted to break up with her, anyway, so?”

"What's the big deal, Arya? Me wanting to break up with her is exactly the point!" Jon explained in an exasperated sigh. Arya limited to arch an eyebrow at him, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bag placed between them on the couch and chewing it loudly. "Want some more?" he asked when Arya finished her beer.

“Oh, absolutely,” she answered, grabbing the offered beer can and taking a big gulp out of it. She burped, slouching back on the couch with a pensive expression. “Ok, no, I'm not following you anymore. What's the matter?”

“She doesn't know I want to break up, as of now. And she can be fucking nuts.”

“Ohh, like that time she almost hit you with a fucking glass bottle just because she was drunk and you _mildly_ pissed her off?” Arya laughed unamusedly. “Damn, that was the moment I started hating her with a passion. I don't even remember why you got back together after that fight, but damn, it definitely wasn't the right thing to do.”

Jon glared at her, feeling some bitterness churning in his stomach. “You know _why_ , Arya. I wasn't in my right mind.”

“No, you weren't,” she whispered softly, looking at him with a gleam of understanding in her steel grey eyes, so similar to his own. “Sorry. I didn't want to bring that up.”

“It's ok, Needle.”

“Oh no, you didn't just bring up childhood nicknames, _Snow_!” she laughed, punching him lightly on the arm. The good-natured gesture caused him to laugh too, and he closed her up in a bear hug, grateful for her ability to always lighten up his mood.

"Guys!" Sansa snapped her fingers in front of them, reclaiming their attention. This time she was wearing a long, dark green silk dress revealing a fair amount of cleavage. Jon looked at her for a moment, then nodded his approval with a mumble. Arya sighed, exasperated. "Goddammit, Sansa, YES, you look stunning. We told you the same for the five previous dresses, though. Aren't you going to be late?"

"Oh well, thank you so much for the compliment, but you're supposed to help me choose, here. It's not that much of a help if you say the same for every single dress I try on," Sansa scoffed.

“Ughh, so annoying!”

“I think... this one. It's the best one,” Jon tried, worried it would drag even longer if someone didn't take a position about Sansa's outfits. “It... uhh, makes your hair colour pop?”

“Thank you, Jon. I appreciate the fact _someone's_ trying, here,” his cousin said, glaring at her sister. He had to suppress a laugh at their antics, so familiar to him. Sansa and Arya were always bickering since they were little children. He knew they loved each other fiercely, though, and were extremely protective of each other. Arya used to say often "I can tell her to fuck off. The rest of the world doesn't have that privilege," and if that wasn't love, Jon didn't know what was.

“Oh, come on. Where do you even have to go? I never saw you fuss this much about your outfit for a girl's night out, anyway,” Arya argued, throwing her hands in the air and pulling him back from his musings.

“Whatever. Green dress it is,” Sansa huffed tiredly, dashing one more time back to her room.

“Damn, she really drives me nuts sometimes...” Arya took another handful of popcorn, shaking her head in annoyance.

“Everyone drives you nuts, Needle. Maybe you're just intolerant,” laughed Jon.

“Fuck no, I'm not. I tolerate your bullshit all the time,” she grinned.

* * *

SANSA

She was nervous and kept fidgeting with the silver bracelet on her wrist. She had been waiting for five minutes or so in front of the Iron Gate's underground station, where Margaery would pass and pick her up. She was alone, still, and a bit worried about that. Had she misunderstood the time or the place for the gathering? She double-checked on her phone, only relaxing slightly when she discovered her fears were unfounded. The green silk of her dress blew lightly in the chilly evening breeze, clinging to her body and caressing her naked legs. She had curled her auburn hair and braided a section on the crown of her head. She had made sure her makeup was _flawless_. Why was she so nervous, then? Why was she even thinking so hard about her appearance? _It is just a girl's night out, Sansa, calm down..._

So absorbed in her anxious thoughts, she hadn't immediately noticed the silver sports car that pulled up on the other side of the street. "Sansa!" she heard a familiar voice calling her. _Ohgodsohgodsohgods..._

Margaery was now walking towards her, and for the Gods, she was simply _stunning_. Her brown hair was flowing down her back and her chest in silky waves, and she was wearing a pinstriped suit that, despite giving her a sort of masculine edge, still managed to display her curves and the beautiful shape of her body. Her lips were bright red, her usual smirk plastered in place. _Damn_. Sansa fussed nervously with a strand of her hair until Margaery stopped in front of her and leaned forward to lightly kiss her cheek. "Long time no see, eh, Stark?" she giggled adorably. "I hope you're hungry. I reserved a table at one of the best restaurants in King's Landing."

“Oh. Margaery... that will be expensive. I don't know if it's the case, I'm a bit tight with-”

“Don't worry, it's on me. I'm the one that asked you out, after all, right?” she merrily rebutted, while opening her car door for her.

“But how will you...” she trailed off before she could say _pay for all of us_ , stunned. Did she just say _asked you out_? As in a date? Suddenly, the absence of her fellow dancers made perfect sense.

“How will I what?” Margaery asked, arching an eyebrow.

“No, nothing. I was just blubbering.” Sansa was sure the colour of her cheeks matched her hair. She could feel them burning like a brazier and was grateful for the cool breeze that came from the sea. How could she have been so stupid as to not understand what was going on? She remembered reading something about Margaery's tryst with a Dornish _girl_ , a couple years past. It had been somewhat of a scandal (in the conservative environment of classical ballet, that is) until Olenna Tyrell threatened to kick out every single homophobe from her theatre, journalists, producers and dancers alike, and everyone cowered in fear. How could she have forgotten that?

She felt suddenly uncomfortable, not knowing how to handle the situation. She felt also quite flattered, to be honest, a bit giddy at the idea that she chose _her_. No, no, what was she thinking? It was all a terrible misunderstanding, and she will have to somehow fix it before the end of the night. So absorbed in her musings, she didn't notice they were now parked in front of a luxurious-looking restaurant on Visenya's Hill until Margaery opened her door again, wearing a smile so bright Sansa could feel her knees getting weaker from the sight.

They were approached at the door by an impeccably-dressed waiter, “Welcome to _Highgarden_ , ladies. Do you have a reservation?”

“Yes, a table for two. The name's Tyrell.”

They were soon seated at a small round table close to a floor-to-ceiling window, complete with a breathtaking view of the city. Candles were flickering on the table, and Margaery soon ordered a bottle of fine red wine from the Reach. She leaned on her elbows, getting closer to her to whisper conspiratorially "This is arguably the best restaurant in King's Landing to serve the Reach's cuisine. My family are regulars, here. I thought you might like it," she winked.

 _Right. It's just a dinner, after all._ Slowly but surely, Sansa began to relax. The food was absolutely amazing. Before this night, Sansa thought she had a good idea of what food from the Reach was like, but she soon realized that what she occasionally picked up from a fast-food chain paled in comparison to the delectable meal she enjoyed that night.

“So, tell me, how are you doing at the Ballet? It's been a few weeks now, how are you faring?” Margaery asked, taking a sip of her wine.

“Oh, well... it's hard. Harder than I thought, honestly. But I'm happy, I feel like I'm really improving.” She took another bite out of the amazingly savory roasted quail on her plate. “Your grandmother... she can be quite scary.”

Margaery laughed, shaking her head fondly. Her wavy hair bounced all around her with the movement, reflecting the soft light of the candles. “Oh yes, she can. But I can assure you she's a sweetheart, if you dig deep enough, that is.”

“Your opinion doesn't count on that, you're biased!” she laughed. “I'm joking, of course. I don't think I've ever had a better teacher before.” She paused for a moment, looking at her in the eyes. “You helped a lot, too. I don't know how would I have fared without your help during the training sessions. You didn't have to help me, but you did nonetheless and I am so grateful for that.”

“It was nothing, Sansa. You have talent, you know?”

“Now you're just flattering me!” she laughed.

“I'm not. You just have to work a bit more on it. I saw it at the audition, I even told you so that same day. There was _something_ there...” Margaery leaned forward on the table, grasping her hand in her own, the warmth of it spreading through her skin straight to her heart. “There was _passion_ , Sansa. The technique needed some refining, yes, but that's only normal. But the passion... that comes from within. And you have so much of it in you...”

Her hazelnut eyes were glimmering like stars, wide and beautiful and... and... it seemed to Sansa they were calling her in their depths, like the song of a siren. She could only stare at her, dumbfounded, her heart pounding fast, muttering a _thank you_ that seemed so inadequate to the intensity of her feelings. How come she always managed to make her feel like a giddy, confused mess?

Suddenly, Margaery broke contact, smiling at her warmly and going back to her plate. Her hand felt so cold after, she yearned for her touch again. How silly is that? To desire the touch of a hand so much? Shuddering, she forced herself to shrug those silly thoughts off and concentrate on the food and directing the conversation back to a much lighter tone.

Dessert arrived as they were chatting merrily about trivial family anecdotes, the strawberry mousse so sweet and creamy it melted on her tongue. Slightly inebriated from the wine, she was laughing at Margaery's story about some prank her brothers had tried to put up on Olenna back when they were teenagers. "They couldn't have known that I overheard their plan. You see, I was only ten at the time, so of course, the first thing I did was to run to my adored grandmother to tell her everything. In reality, I think I was just pissed they didn't include me, you know? Anyway, I was expecting my grandmother to scold them, but she had a better idea."

She leaned in closer to her, conspiratorially. "They had planned to do some stupid ghost prank they had seen in some stupid movie. We managed to really make them believe the house was haunted," she laughed. "I swear it took three weeks at least, maybe even longer. We started slow, subtle hints of unwelcomed presences here and there. By the end, furniture moved around by itself and the lights switched off and on randomly. And the screams that came from various parts of the house... I shouldn't tell you this, but Loras even cried, he was so scared. That's when we felt _slightly_ guilty and confessed it was all our doing.” Their complex simulation of the house being infested by ghosts had been so well-thought and realistic that even older, serious Willas gave them compliments for a job well done.

"This reminds me of something similar my brother and my cousin once did!" Sansa said. "We have a family crypt at Winterfell's graveyard, right? Since our family has lived there for generations... anyway, one day my brother Robb comes and tell us to go in the crypt, that he found a wonderful treasure probably hidden there by our ancestors. Keep in mind we were only children, so of course, we believed him, me and my sister and my brother Bran. We were so excited! But that place is really creepy, and huge... the further we adventured in, the darker it became. We grew disquieted, but Robb kept insisting it was _the dopest thing we would ever see,_ ” she laughed, tasting the last bite from her dessert. “And then my cousin Jon jumps right in front of us from behind a statue, completely covered in flour, making some ghostly noises. I never screamed so hard in all my life!” The memory was a sweet one, now, even if she hadn't talked to Robb and Jon for two weeks after that scare.

Margaery was laughing too, amused. “That sounds fun!”

“I was so angry at the time... I made them beg my forgiveness,” she winked.

Margaery pursed her lips in a mischievous smile, her eyes shining. “A demanding sort, are you? Will you make me beg, Sansa?”

 _Damn_. She burned, again, under her heated gaze. She wanted to drown in it, to touch those red lips that were smirking at her... “I wouldn't mind that too much,” Margaery continued.

 _Fuck, I want to kiss her_. Swallowing, she forced her eyes on her own fidgeting hands, just to concentrate on something else, anything really, that could help her calm down. Margaery seemed to sense her distress, because she rose from her seat, still smiling. “If you're ready, we can go.”

_Nononononononotyet..._

“There's a place I want you to see.”

Sansa followed her like she was in a trance. The Great Sept wasn't far from the restaurant, but they passed it to stop in front of the ruins of the ancient Guildhall of the Alchemists. Margaery shot her a smile before jumping over the low fence surrounding the ruins, reaching out a hand to help her do the same. She followed eagerly, the sudden rush of adrenaline at the idea of doing something prohibited... and doing it with her. The older girl guided her into the intricate mess of the ruins, her steps confident and steady like she had been there before. As they reached the edge of the Guildhall, the most amazing view of the city opened in front of her.

"Margaery... this is... this is so beautiful." Her eyes could caress King's Landing's waterfront all the way to the Blackwater Rush, the ruins of the Red Keep softly illuminated in an orange glow. She could see everything, from the lights of the evening market on the East Arrowhead Court on the right to the gentle slope of Visenya's Hill on the left. It was truly breathtaking.

"It is," she said, but she wasn't looking at the view of the city. Sansa's heart was pounding so fast, she was sure Margaery could hear it too. They were so close right now, and she didn't know, she couldn't know what to do...

“I've never... never kissed a girl before...” she said, her voice small and unsteady, barely more than a whisper.

“It's just a kiss, Sansa. It will not change who you are. We like who we like,” she leaned closer, “and I like _you_.”

On a whim, Sansa closed the distance that separated their lips. Those lips she yearned to touch all night, those beautiful red lips were calling at her, and she couldn't resist them any more. All her silly doubts were flooded and submerged by the wonderful sensation of those lips on hers. Their kiss was intense, passionate, Margaery's tongue asking daringly for the permission to ravage her mouth, her teeth gently nipping at her lower lip. It burned through her like wildfire, every minuscule sensation multiplied tenfold through her body.

When their lips finally parted, they were both breathless, panting. Sansa was sure they were bound to touch again, many times, before the night would end.

Margaery was right. We like who we like.

On something else, though, Sansa was sure she had lied.

_It's not just a kiss._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the meantime, I wrote a fluffy bonus chapter called "Rhaegar's Birthday". Check it out, and if you liked it, please leave a kudos and comment! https://archiveofourown.org/works/14813255


	18. Little Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *this chapter is provided to you by "Lil' Devil" by The Cult*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to LustOnMyFingers and Enygma0710 for betaing this chapter. You're the best!
> 
> Moodboard by justwanderingneverlost.

JON

It was a sunny day in King's Landing, and Jon was in an exceptionally good mood. The rock fest was looming just around the corner, just the thought of it filling him with a sense of trepidation. Old Mormont had even given him permission to post some flyers in the shop, and a few customers had seemed interested in the event.

He ended his shift around 7 and was about to head home when he heard a notification on his phone.

_There are reptiles in my shop. Do something about it._

_Coming rn._

Turning on his heels, he changed his route, heading towards the Freefolk Tattoo parlor instead.

Tormund was already settling to close the shop, but he welcomed him with a heated pat on the neck nonetheless. "They're quite cute, you know? Whoever would've guessed..." he muttered as he brought forward a holed cardboard box. He opened it to show him the three baby bearded dragons.

"They're... so small," Jon noted. The three reptiles were peering up at him, cocking their heads in his direction. The black and red one, slightly bigger than the other two, adorably tried to hiss at him, while the cream-coloured one seemed to be trying to hide behind his brothers. The green one simply eyed him curiously, coming closer to his outstretched hand, apparently inspecting it. Looking at them, so tiny but with somewhat of a glint of unmistakable reptilian pride in their eyes, he could understand Dany's fascination for the species. "Kinda cute, yes."

Tormund chuckled lightly, letting the black one nip at his little finger. "Fierce, I would say. Look at this little fella here, he believes he's Balerion reborn." As if on cue, the dragon hissed again, louder than before, and extended his beard in a charming attempt at looking dangerous. "The fucker has hissed and bit at me the whole fucking time. Are you sure that pretty chick of yours isn't going to change them out for rabbits in a couple weeks?"

"Naah, she will love them, I'm sure of it."

The red-headed giant of a man let out an earthy laugh. "Right. She's a dragon too, that one, I could see it straight away." He then closed the box again, careful not to leave any options for an escape route for the lizards.

"That she is," Jon confirmed with a chortle.

“Take care, Jon,” Tormund slapped his back again, a friendly grin hidden under his huge red beard.

“Sure. Thank you, Tormund.”

Faint rustling noises came from the cardboard box on the passenger seat of his old Pontiac Firebird. He tried to drive as smoothly as he could, in a futile attempt at avoiding upsetting the beasts too much. Every time he hit a bump a displeased hissing erupted from the box, making him chuckle under his breath. Luckily, the drive wasn't too long, and he was soon parking in front of the tall, stylish building on Magnolia St. where he had already brought her home a few times.

Carrying the box in his hands with the utmost care, he slowly walked up to the building's entrance. Before he could even reach the door, a middle-aged blondish man in a white button-down opened the large glass door for him. "Sir? Do you wish to leave a package?"

"Ehm, no... I mean, this is for Daenerys Targaryen, she lives here," he mumbled. "But I would like to deliver it myself." As if on a signal, a loud hiss came from inside the box, making the concierge frown at him in suspicion.

“What the hell is in there?”

"Bearded dragons? They're babies, actually. They're... a present. For Daenerys Targaryen."

“A _present_?” he almost growled, grasping his arm.

“Yeah, she... she likes dragons? You may have seen her, pale hair, dragons all over her clothes...”

The older man seemed to mull over Jon's words, frowning. "Right. The Targaryens. They had workers over to build a terrarium this week..." he muttered, relenting his grip. "Okay, then. Tenth floor." He still seemed hesitant, but finally let him go towards the elevators. Jon pushed the button calling the elevator, then entered and slumped against the mirrored wall. He exited on the tenth floor and collected himself before ringing the Targaryen's doorbell, shifting his feet nervously on the white marble floor of the hallway.

The door opened abruptly, showing a tall guy upsettingly similar to Dany sniffing and regarding him spitefully. He eyed the box in Jon's arms and snorted. "I sure as fuck haven't ordered anything."

Jon placed a booted foot right on time to refrain him from slamming the door on his face. “I'm looking for Daenerys, actually.”

"Can't fucking believe it..." he muttered, sniffing. "DANY! THE DOOR!" he shouted loudly. "WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?" _The_ other _brother, I suppose. She sure wasn't kidding when she said he was a cunt._

"Jeez, Vis, calm the fuck down, I'm coming..." Jon could hear her voice coming from within the apartment. Luckily enough, the annoying guy didn't stop to wait for her, disappearing down a corridor.

"Jon? What... what are you doing here?" There she was, her voice taking on a surprised note that couldn't hide her glee. She looked so beautiful without a trace of makeup, clad only in short white cotton shorts and an oversized black Metallica t-shirt, so faded and consumed it had to be vintage. Her hair was tied up in one of her usual loose braids, the tip dancing around her hips. She had a tiny speck of cobalt blue paint on her cheek, and some on her fingers, and it was clear she had been working on her oils when he rang at her door. The sight of her, unkempt and surprised in her relaxed home apparel was so adorable he couldn't help the huge smile that broke up his face.

“I've got a gift for you,” he smiled, nodding to the box in his hands.

Her eyes widened as she immediately caught on what was in the box. “Really? It's a day early! Oh gods, come in!”

Dany beckoned him inside the welcoming open-space, and he couldn't help but drop his jaw. He had imagined she would live in a luxurious apartment, just from judging from the facade of the building, but he honestly couldn't have fathomed anything like _this_. The golden sunset light filtered through the big floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing the contemporary white furniture in a warm glow. The light grey walls of the enormous living room displayed some of her colourful paintings, big canvases that added touches of red and purple and yellow to the ambience. While he was still gaping around, his mouth open like a fish, Dany gently grasped his arm and guided him towards a corridor and through a door at the end of it. She was beaming, almost jumping in excitement, and seeing her so happy made him feel happy too.

"Look, there! I just had it build, like, two days ago. Will it be big enough?" She gestured to what appeared to be a large terrarium, taking up almost an entire wall of what was, quite obviously, her own bedroom.

“If it's big enough? They're bearded lizards, Dany, not winged dragons of old,” he laughed. The beasts will surely have all the space they could ever need and more in that terrarium.

She grinned, excited, and stepped closer to him. So entranced he was by her toothy smile, she had to nudge his hands to make him remember why he was even there in the first place. “Oh, right. The dragons.”

He placed the box on the white desktop, enjoying the breathtaking view on the Blackwater Bay from her windows. She opened it with trembling hands, melting in a puddle of awed cooings almost instantly. "Awwwww, they're just sooo cute!" she squealed, reaching for them. "Here, come to mommy..." She took out the black dragon from the box gently, cradling him to her chest. The tiny beast hissed at her for a minute or two, but then slowly relented to her cuddles, his reptilian eyes half-lidded and his expression content at her affections.

Before today, Jon would have never imagined that reptiles could be so expressive. He watched, a little awed, as Dany cuddled all three of them in turn, placing them in the terrarium afterwards, and sat observing them for so long, he feared she had completely forgotten he was in the room. He wasn't too concerned about it, though, as he had all the time in the world to observe her like he would observe one of her paintings, memorizing every tiny detail, the way her chest expanded when she inhaled, the way the few strands of loose hair danced lightly around her face with her movements, how her otherworldly eyes shone with delight as she watched the baby dragons settle in their new home. _Gods, she's beautiful_. And funny, witty, sweet, fierce... He had to look away and forcefully swallow to soothe the sudden lump in his throat, overwhelmed by the intensity of his growing feelings.

She stepped closer to him then, hugging him so tight it almost hurt. He hugged her back, nuzzling his nose in her hair, breathing her in.

“Thank you, Jon. This is... this is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever done for me, apart from my family,” she whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion. _Do you feel it too, then?_

As if able to read his mind, Dany cupped his face, letting him see her glassy eyes and wobbly smile, before kissing him sweetly on the lips.

Dany's lips lingered on his own for a moment, then she smiled, watching him close, and kissed him again.

One, two, three times.

Every kiss lingered a bit longer than the previous, until he couldn't bear it anymore and grasped her waist, pulling her closer, making her yelp at the sudden assault.

Her noise of surprise made him moan in return, parting his lips to let their tongues meet yet again, his hands caressing her hips, his fingertips digging lightly on the fabric-covered skin. Dany nipped his lower lip, tugging it gently, and slowly opened her eyes to cast him a look so dark and hungry it sent a paralyzing rush of blood straight towards his groin. He gulped, smiling sheepishly. "This... you're making me look like a bad person," he chuckled.

"Mh?" she murmured, trailing kisses on his bearded jaw.

"Like I give gifts to get something in return..."

She snorted, breaking contact, only to walk him backwards until the back of his knees hit the side of the bed. Her smile was almost wicked, now. “Shut up, Stark,” she whispered, pushing him slowly on the blood red coverlet.

She didn't have to tell him twice, he thought, as a grin spread out on his face and he lunged to grasp her, pulling Dany closer to him for a scorching kiss.

* * *

DANY

Those plump lips on hers were torture, sweet, sweet torture.

She stifled a moan as he nipped at her lower lip, moving to trail kisses down her jaw and neck, his hands wandering on her body. One hand soon found its way under her shirt, caressing the bare skin of her stomach, causing a trail of goosebumps to erupt in its wake.

She may have whimpered, because she could feel him smile against her skin. Jon's hand was now wandering towards her breasts, maddeningly slow, feeling the weight before circling his thumb around a puckered nipple and caressing it lightly.

“Jon...” she moaned.

“Yeah?” his voice was muffled.

"Off," she breathed, tugging at his shirt. He complied her request, hunger showing in his steel-grey eyes, the pupils so open they looked almost sable in the fading light of the room. The sunset cast a golden shadow on his otherwise pale skin, and she could see the brown reflections in his dark hair. He was breathtakingly beautiful, the muscles of his chest rippling under his skin as he shrugged off his shirt, then his shoes. He cast her a predatory glance as he unbuckled his belt, lingering on the zip of his jeans.

“Jon.”

He smirked mischievously. "Something wrong?"

“You wicked-” She was cut off by his pounce, his lips attacking her mouth again and a hand snaking under the waistband of her shorts to graze teasingly at her soaked underwear.

He broke off the kiss with a snarl, yanking off his pants, his erection evident in his boxer briefs. “So many complaints, Dany,” he whispered in her ear, his voice low and rough, right before tugging at her lobe. “Do you wish me to stop?”

 _Absolutely fucking not_ , she almost wanted to yell, but as he slid his fingers under her panties and lightly caressed her bare clit while leaving a trail of wet kisses along her neck, all she could really do was whimper helplessly.

Dany snaked her arms around Jon's waist, wanting to feel him closer, but he escaped her embrace to tug at her shirt instead. Frenzied, she helped him hastily yank it off. Jon didn't waste time before lunging for her breasts, lavishing the rosy nipples with his tongue in turn, eliciting a contented sigh from her. Without breaking his mouth's contact with her hot-flushed skin, Jon made quick work of her pyjama shorts, tossing them aside in a steadily growing pile of garments on the floor.

Dany couldn't lie to herself, she had wanted this for what felt like way too much time, now. Always the impatient sort, she had started fantasizing about having Jon in her bed since their first dinner together. She soon realized that the friction of his large calloused hand felt way better than her own slender one as it slid along her folds, a string of curses murmured against the skin of her belly as he could feel how wet she already was. When did their underwear disappear, anyway? She couldn't really remember, not that she really cared about it either. He was really there, this time, and not just a figment of her imagination. Looking beautiful and greedy, his wild hair tickling on her skin as he kissed her, all of her.

She arched her back against the mattress at the blissful contact of his tongue on her cunt, recklessly moaning, waves of pleasure coiling in her belly. He definitely knew what he was doing, she noticed appreciatively, alternating between soft lapping and deep strokes of his tongue, caressing her with his deft fingers, and sucking skillfully on her clit. She stroked his hair, the delectable sight of his curls between her thighs imprinted vividly in her mind as she shut her eyes, her orgasm sending her plummeting over the edge.

She came down to the sight of Jon kissing his way back up, his tongue dipping into her navel and lingering on her taut nipples before slowly reaching her lips, her taste still on his tongue.

The shift in their positions, she could finally grasp his cock, stroking it from root to tip, making him moan delightfully in her mouth, his kissing becoming sloppier. When his lips stopped moving on hers, leaving his mouth parted open in a gasping moan, she pushed a hand on his chest to guide him down to the mattress. She could feel his heavy gaze on her as she leaned towards her bedside table, fishing for a condom in the bottom drawer, opening the tinfoil package with her teeth, while languidly stroking his cock.

Jon had a beautiful cock, thick and hard and deliciously flushed to the tip. Dany eyed it hungrily as she slowly unrolled the condom on it, moving to straddle his hips. He watched her attentively as she guided his cock to her folds, sinking down on him with a tilt of her hips. He groaned, arching back on the pillows and thrusting his hips upwards on her, his hands coming up to grasp at her waist.

The sight of him, rumpled and lewd and so deliciously _edible_ under her was almost enough to make her come again. She closed her eyes, throwing her head back in a long wail. When she came back down, she found his lips searching for her mouth. He found his prize with a messy, scorching kiss meant to devour her as his hand cupped her jaw and his cock thrust deeply into her.

* * * * *

Jon lazily stroked her back as they laid, utterly spent, in her bed. It was dark outside, the lights of the waterfront reflecting in the dark, wide mirror that was the Blackwater Bay. She was draped on his chest, almost drifting off at the pleasurable sensation of his fingers softly grazing her skin and the increased pulse of his heartbeat.

“That was...” he sighed, breathless.

“Yeah, terrible.”

He snapped his eyes open, looking at her with barely concealed apprehension before noticing the playful smirk on her face. "Absolutely awful," he finally agreed.

"So awful, Jon Stark, I doubt we will ever give it a go again," she hummed, scooting closer to kiss an amused chuckle from his lips.

She let a hand wander towards his softening cock, skimming teasingly close to it before rounding his hips and grasping a handful of his buttocks instead. He half-moaned, half-laughed in her mouth, flipping her down on the bed in a swift movement, kissing her along her neck and chest.

"I'll show you terrible, Dany..." he promised against her lips, rekindling her fire in a heartbeat. She was about to flip him over again and fuck him into sweet oblivion when they were interrupted by the loud, prolonged groan of an empty stomach.

They stilled, staring at each other with wide eyes. “What the hell was that?”

“I don't know! Maybe it's the dragons?”

"Don't blame the dragons, Dany!" he laughed. He kissed her hard on the lips, cupping her face with both hands. His eyes were so warm and soft, like a pit of molten metal, Dany felt thankful she was lying already, or else she was sure her knees would have buckled under the heat of his gaze. "Come, put something on," he whispered, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. "I would never want to be responsible for starving you out."

He slowly stood up, moving to search for his scattered clothes.

“If I remember right, there's a good Myrish restaurant not too far from here,” he said, pulling the zipper of his pants close.

“Is it a date, Jon Stark?”

His smile was so sweet and bright she was sure her heart skipped a beat.

“Of course it is, my little dragon.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I change the rating? Should I write about their dinner next chapter or we can skip it and go directly to the rock fest? Should I stay or should I go?
> 
> PS: for all the Twin Peaks lovers, the Pontiac Firebird is the same one Bobby Briggs drives.


	19. Come Clarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IT LIVES!
> 
> Sorry for the wait, folks.
> 
> *this chapter is provided to you by "Come Clarity" by In Flames*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to LustOnMyFingers and Enygma0710 for betaing this chapter. You're the best!
> 
> Moodboard by justwanderingneverlost.

 

DANY

"It's fancy here!" Dany craned her neck, observing the beautiful interiors of the Myrish restaurant Jon brought her to, a content smile dancing on her lips. The high-ceilinged room's walls were covered with richly decorated blue-and-gold mosaics, the columns a dark mahogany. The lights were soft and warm, creating a welcoming atmosphere.

“Admit it, Stark. Is this where you bring all your girls?” she laughed.

"Yeah, sure..." he rolled his eyes, placing a hand gently on her lower back as they followed the waiter towards their table. The simple touch was enough to send a delightful jolt of electricity through her spine.

“My ex-girlfriend was more the fast-food type. She would have considered this too posh for her taste.”

“She must have missed out on a lot of things, then.”

“Oh, you have _no idea,_ ” Jon chuckled.

They sat down to a small, circular table, covered in a linen tablecloth and with a lone candle burning at the center.

“Wine?” he asked her while they perused the menu, an eyebrow raised in question.

“Of course, why not.”

They placed their order, clinking their glasses as soon as they were delivered the bottle of red.

"To dragons," Jon playfully toasted. The look he cast at her almost made her swoon, eyes liquid and warm, a smile so bright and soft on his lips she wanted to taste them again.

 _I'm in love, I'm in love_ , her dazed soul chanted.

"So, tell me... where did this worship of dragons come from?"

She laughed in her glass, amused. “Is that even a question? Isn't there a moment in the life of every kid when dragons are the most amazing thing to ever exist?”

“True that, now that you mention it.” He seemed to study her, his reverie interrupted only by the arrival of their food. “So, what's the diagnosis? Never passed that phase, Daenerys?” he smirked at her, playful.

"Not my fault if they're the greatest thing to ever exist," she laughed.

“Direwolves were pretty dope too, don't you think?”

Dany considered his question as she tasted her honeyed cheese, savouring the delicate flavour on her tongue. "Mmhh. _Pretty dope_ , yes.” She took a sip of her wine, arching an eyebrow in his direction. “But, I mean... _dragons_ , Jon.”

His amused laugh had her smile in response. "Ok, ok... Ghost will be so disappointed."

“Ghost?”

“My dog. He's a Northern Wolf. Much smaller than a direwolf, but... at least he looks like one.”

“Aww, you didn't tell me you have a dog!” she exclaimed, her interest piqued. She observed him fishing for his phone to search for Ghost's photos, a look on his face that could only be described as pride.

He showed her a picture of what looked like a white wolf in all aspects, a sweet expression in his beautiful red eyes. Jon was hugging him, a rare bright smile on his face as he took their selfie, his black shirt visibly covered in white dog's hair. "Oh, Jon, he's a beauty!" she excitedly commented, watching as he swiped a few more pictures, showing him during a trip in the woods, or running around a mountain lake, or fetching a toy. "But the colouring... I thought Northern Wolves were grey, sometimes black."

“He has a form of albinism. See the eyes? They're red. It makes him special, I think. That's why I called him Ghost.”

She playfully rolled her eyes, laughing. “ _So edgy_. You were an emo kid in high school, right? I can tell.”

“Busted,” he chuckled.

“So, when will I meet Ghost?” she asked, an underlying fear that he wouldn't let her be part of his life, yet, exacerbated when he took his sweet time to answer, swallowing bites of his meal in the meantime.

"Well... he's in Winterfell. Not enough space for him in our cramped apartment, I'm afraid."

She could hear the wistfulness in his tone as he said so. “My uncle Benjen is a breeder, you see. My cousins have their own dogs, too, and he's taking care of them. Someday I will be out of that place, and in a house, surrounded by a large garden. Then, I will take back Ghost for good.”

“Wouldn't it be nice?” she mused, a bit reassured, her face rested on the palm of her hand as she chewed slowly.

“Oh, definitely. Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't be simpler to just go back there.”

 _No, please, no_. The idea that he could leave was enough to evoke a sinking, unpleasant feeling in her gut.

“But, you know... I've got the band, and my friends... most of my family lives here now. And, well...” he trailed off, but his nervous glance managed to convey his silent conclusion.

It was enough to make her stomach flutter, the hope that he would feel for her what she was feeling for him, that he would also want to _be_ with her... the uncertainty was a sweet torture.

 _What are we?_ She couldn't help but ask herself. _What does he want me to be?_

“I would like for you to stay,” she shyly muttered, feeling the burn in her cheeks. Gods, what was he doing to her? He blushed too, she noticed, reaching out tentatively for her hand, grasping it and intertwining his fingers with hers.

“Yeah, I don't think I will go anywhere,” he murmured. She let the implications of it sink into her heart, the need to be somewhere private and just _show him_ what she wasn't ready to tell him yet-

“Are you... are you ok? Like, we can go if you want,” Jon said, uncertainty in his voice.

“Oh. Of course,” she blinked. “Let's go.”

They didn't make it far from the restaurant before they started making out at every corner of the road, hands exploring each other's bodies over their clothes, his tongue tasting deliciously of red wine and _Jon_ , thrusting in her mouth and making her moan. How long did it take to come back? It surely felt longer than what it took to walk that same road one hour or so before, and she wasn't ready to let him go in the least.

“Jon...” she breathed in between swipes of his tongue.

“Mh?” He murmured as he dragged his hands over her dress, grasping her hips and pulling her flush against him.

“Do you want to – _ah_ – do you want to come up?”

“ _Yeah._ ”

They forced themselves to behave as they passed under the suspicious scrutiny of her nosy concierge – and if she didn't know better, she would have sworn that Mr. Mormont looked genuinely _pissed_ – only to start making out again as soon as they were safely alone inside the elevator, all the way to her door.

“Wait wait wait,” she said as she fished for her keys. “Not in front of Viserys, please.”

They stealthily crossed the hallway to her room, and he seized her as soon as the door closed, eliciting a burst of giggles as he threw her over his shoulder and carried her to the bed. Dany could only spare a second marveling at how quickly he could stir her up before his mouth was on hers again, passionate, sloppy kisses while his hands played with the hem of her dress, sliding beneath it, along her thighs and up to her hips.

His touch left a trail of fire on her skin, heat pooling at her core, making her squirm with the need of him. They made quick work of their clothes, kissing and touching every inch of skin they could reach. His firm muscles contracted under his skin, the hard planes of his body a map Daenerys had all the intention of learning by heart.

She grasped his cock, slow strokes from root to tip, making him moan in her mouth. She pushed him back on the mattress, nipping and kissing along his jaw and down his neck. His fingers sank in her mane of silver hair as Dany ventured lower, leaving a trail of kisses in her wake.

Her name was a muttered curse as she took his cock in her mouth, slow sloppy strokes of the tongue along his length, circling around the tip, sucking hard until she could feel him tremble under her wandering hands. Jon growled, tugging at her hair to pull her back from him, prowling on her like a wolf on its prey.

The sudden change of position almost made her dizzy, feeling deliciously caged under his body weight, her hips frantically buckling against his.

“Where-”

“Bottom drawer.”

He hunted for the condom in a frenzy, putting it on quickly. When he turned to finally look at her, she was touching herself, biting her bottom lip as she looked at him wantonly. "Oh, fuck..."

He bent over to give her a passionate kiss, taking away her fingers from her folds only to replace them with his cock, her cunt so slick he was inside her in one swift stroke. "Fuck, Dany..."

They made love in a rush, their pace unsteady. Soft gasps and groans filled her ears, together with the obscene wet sound of skin slapping against skin, until sweet bliss took them both and they slumped on the bed, tangled limbs and erratic breaths.

She must have been dozing off for a bit, opening her eyes when she heard the soft rumble of his light chuckle reverberating through his chest.

“They seem to have settled quite fine in their new home, huh?” he whispered, observing the dragons lazily venturing around in their terrarium.

"I hope so. I was scared they wouldn't like it."

“Impossible. That thing looks more comfortable than the pyramids in Meereen.” He hugged her, dipping his face in the crook of her neck. “And they got _you_. It's like they won the lottery.”

“Are you trying to flatter me, Stark?” she giggled, craning her neck back to look in his eyes.

He laughed, but his smile was soft and he was looking at her with such affection in his eyes that her heart almost skipped a beat.

She didn't want him to go. She wanted for this moment to last forever.

"Will you sleep here tonight?" Dany asked, hope and uncertainty in her voice. His eyes were wide open, but he was not quite looking at her. He turned melancholy, pensive, and she immediately berated herself for asking such a question. _Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why would you scare him away?_

Apparently unaware of her inner turmoil, Jon looked immersed in some of his own. She could feel his fingers closing around hers, could see the swallowing motion in his throat. When he turned to look at her, there was something in his eyes she couldn't quite describe.

“Dany...”

"What is it?"

“There is something I need to tell you.”

* * *

YGRITTE

Her Dornish vacation had seemed to fly by, quite literally. As she observed the desertic landscape from the train's window, she couldn't help but feel immensely anxious. Mance, the cold fucker, was going back to the North for a while. He didn't even care enough as to tell her before their vacation started, dumping the information on her at the train station, crushing all hopes to go back to King's Landing together. She had tried to convince him to bring her along, but he had been unmovable. _He's probably going back to Dalla, the asshole._ Uncertainty and jealousy took control of her, and she soon found herself biting her nails, a nervous habit she had since she was a child.

_He doesn't love me._

The rising sun reflected on the red, dusty earth of Dorne, casting an unnatural reflection into her train's cabin. Luckily, there was no one there to bother her.

_He will never love me._

Why should she care, after all? Mance could keep his stupid Dalla and fuck half the population of Westeros, for all she cared.

 _Liar. If you could deal with it, you would have done so years ago, instead of torturing that poor guy,_ a voice whispered, mocking her.

She had neglected him, and was feeling guilty. He had left a number of missed calls and a few messages, most of them inquiring as to her whereabouts. One of the last ones, though, had her frown, so uncharacteristic in his blunt simplicity, almost harsh, coming from him. _We need to talk_ , it said.

It was sent three days ago. After that, nothing more. No missed calls, no more messages. _Weird_. As he would probably be working now, she decided to wait before calling Jon. Sighing, she opened up the Instagram app to check on him. She scrolled over the sheer amount of spam for an upcoming rock fest at the Dragonpit, over pictures of The Night's Watch rehearsals in Grenn's garage, a few snaps of him playing card games with his aunt and cousins. She almost wanted to sigh out of boredom, when the next few pictures made her frown.

In between smiling snaps with his cousin and their friends, one shot caught her attention. There he was, smiling dumbly, holding hands with a gorgeous blonde while making unmistakable puppy eyes at her. Ygritte never saw an expression like _that_ on his face, not even at the beginning of their troubled relationship. It made a surge of jealousy jolt through her system, causing her to growl at the pictures.

_It's nothing, right? I urged him to do so._

The mysterious girl was smiling shyly back at him, a blush on her cheeks Ygritte was almost sure couldn't be attributed to make-up.

 _You're collecting what you sowed_ , the voice whispered.

 _Shut the fuck up_ , she thought back. _I care for him. I do._

_But you never cared when he was consumed by his jealousy of you, when he hurt because of you._

She stared at the pictures for a long time, memorizing every tiny detail, before clicking on the girl's tag. The smiling face of _Daenerys Stormborn_ (was that even a name?) looked back at her, smeared with purple and yellow paint in one picture, standing proudly beside a huge canvas, partying with friends in another, drinking cocktails with Missandei at what appeared to be the _White Walker_. Jon's face popped up here and there, always annoyingly close to her in one way or another, until the location tags switched to various places in Essos and the faces became unfamiliar to her.

What to do?

She knew Jon well enough to feel threatened by what she saw in his lovestruck expression. Loyal, sweet Jon... he put himself in the cage she built for him, his complaints sounding hollow to her ears. She told him so many times to do as she did, to see other people, to not burden her with his emotional needs.

She never thought he would eventually, actually listen to her.

_I know him. I know him._

He had always been there for her, so utterly devoted. There had never been another.

 _It may mean nothing_ , she tried to rationalize. Even so, the foreboding feeling in her gut would't leave her alone.

If there was one thing Ygritte truly believed in, it was the value of her instincts.

_If I do nothing, I'm going to lose him._

She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry and itchy, staring at those pictures back again, reading his messages attentively, searching for clues. _Did he feel like this?_ Groaning, she shut her eyes, head leaning against the window, the bumps on the railroad reverberating through her neck.

_I don't want to be alone._

_You always were_ , the mean voice whispered in her head. _You always were._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know.
> 
> Next chapter: a rock fest.


	20. Discreet Desires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can't believe I wrote 20 chapters of this shit, folks. And this one is the longest so far! Yay!
> 
> *this chapter is provided to you by "R U Mine?" by Arctic Monkeys*
> 
> Chapter title for Helena Hauff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to LustOnMyFingers and Enygma0710 for betaing this chapter. You're the best and I love you with all my heart!
> 
> Moodboard by justwanderingneverlost.

 

 

GENDRY

“Stop doing that.”

“Doin' what?”

“You're tickling me.”

Gendry shifted slightly, taking his hands away from her waist and moving them to her naked breasts, fingertips dancing softly on her puckered nipples.

"Gendry, for fuck's sake. We've got no time for that," she lamented suppressing a moan.

He sighed dramatically, nuzzling his face against her neck. “Oh, come on. Nobody's gonna die if we are a bit late.”

“Are you dumb? I don't want to miss the bands.”

“Ok, ok...” Gendry muttered, moving to get up from his bed... well, it had felt more like _their_ bed, as of lately. Arya was spending quite a lot of time at his apartment. He couldn't be happier, really, her energetic presence was a ray of light that made him feel like he was truly at home.

He entered the kitchen, pouring them both a cup of leftover cold coffee while Arya dressed, hastily donning her plaid shirt and skinny jeans, the faint bruises of their passionate lovemaking disappearing under the layers of clothes. Her body was a marvel, the toned muscles of a warrior and the lovely curves of the young woman. She created an unusual, intoxicating combination. Arya couldn't be more perfect.

“Hey, stop staring at the void. We're gonna be late,” she ordered, eliciting an amused chuckle at her authoritative tone.

“As m'lady commands,” he teased. Arya swatted him on the arm, grinning.

The walk to the Pit was quite short, and they were immediately greeted by their friends, who occupied a table close to the stage. There were also some new faces around, Missandei being glued to a tall, stoic-looking guy and Grenn already importuning Sam's date, a brown-haired girl with a sweet smile. _Typical Grenn_ , he thought, amused.

The girl looked a bit perplexed at his antics, quirking a brow at Sam, who simply shrugged and fake-whispered, “There's a buffoon at every court, Gilly. We could only afford this one.” Everyone laughed at the table, Arya almost choking on her beer.

Everyone but Jon, who merely chuckled under his breath, before shaking his head as he had just recalled a reason to look even sourer.

"What's the matter, Jon?" Arya was already prodding him, completely nonplussed by Missandei's warning glare.

The dark-skinned girl came closer to them, throwing worried glances at their sullen friend, and whispered: “He's been like this all day long. I tried to ask what was wrong, but you know how he is when he doesn't want to talk.” She bit her lower lip, considering; as Pyp joined their hushed conversation: “I swear to you, guys, sound-check with him has been a pain in the ass today. I'm not used to it anymore, he's been far too happy lately, I almost forgot we used to call him Commander Brooding.”

Missandei had to suppress a chuckle, quickly plastering a serious expression to her face when Jon turned to throw them a glare, clearly aware of what they were talking about.

The conversation steered towards more pleasant topics, and Edd revealed that the Night's Watch was finally working at their first album together. “It's an independent production, of course. I don't know how many physical copies we will be able to afford to produce, but there will be the digital release too, obviously,” he beamed, clearly excited. “We still have to figure out the graphics, though.”

“Right, we want something cool, you know?” added Pyp.

“I'm sure you'll figure that out,” Gendry said. “Are you going to officially announce it anytime soon?”

"Tonight, actually. You know, during the concert. We were thinking about flyers, too, both here at the Pit and at The Wall. And then there are the internet announcements that we've scheduled for tomorrow," explained Edd.

 _Good for them_ , Gendry thought. His friends had worked so hard on their music since they formed the band, he was genuinely happy they were about to finally produce their first album. “I'm sure it will be mind-blowing, guys,” he grinned.

They all toast to that, managing to earn a smile even from Jon.

* * *

JON

“How long still?” Missandei asked, a raised eyebrow in his direction.

“This band set should be done in fifteen minutes,” he said, checking the time on his phone. “Then half an hour for the _Wildlings_ , then it's us.”

“Good,” she mused, taking a long sip of her cocktail. “Jon... forgive me for asking, but there's this... tangible cloud of gloominess around you, it's impossible not to notice.”

“And Dany's not here, yet,” she added almost as an afterthought, narrowing her eyes at him.

_Fuck._

Hearing Missandei state out the obvious made Arya's ears perk up too. "Oh shit, I knew it!" she stated, slamming her hand on the table. "Jon... my dumbass cousin, did you fuck it up?" she sing-songed, but the honest concern was clear in her eyes.

“Uhhhh...” he sighed, slumping down on his chair with a deepening frown. “I don't know, ok? I told her about Ygritte and she... shut down, I think.”

“Fuck's sake,” came Sam's muttered curse, while his cousin scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“And when did you do that, genius?”

“Two nights ago.”

Missandei leaned over, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Jon. Do you want me to talk to her?"

“No, Missy. It's... her choice, after all. No need for intermediaries,” he grunted, fishing for a cigarette and standing up to go take a smoke outside. He felt like shit, but there was nothing he could do about it at the moment. _I tried to do what was right._

Dany had listened to his scrambled confession about his fucked up relationship without uttering a word, staring forlornly at the ceiling. He told her that he had wanted to talk to Ygritte, to tell her it was over for good, but that he couldn't reach her after their last fight, all those weeks ago. When he finished, she was tightly clutched against his side, and he had felt relief for a moment, relishing in her presence until he drifted asleep.

He was so happy she didn't kick him out of the house, at first, but then he had woken up in the middle of the night to a cold bed. Dany was curled up in the chair on her balcony, staring at the Blackwater Bay, worrying her lips when she wasn't taking puffs of smoke from her cigarette. The ashtray on the floor was almost full. When he called her name, she only turned her head slightly towards him, without a word, then turned back to stare at the horizon.

It felt like he had failed yet again.

He could only scramble up his clothes and dress in silence, before heading quietly out of her room, to a place where he could feel like shit without making a fool of himself in front of her.

“Got a lighter? I forgot mine at home.”

Startled by the sudden interruption of his train of thoughts, he almost gasped when he turned to see her standing right beside him, a meek, sad expression in her eyes that nearly broke his heart.

Silently handing her the lighter, he couldn't help but drink her figure in, observing her every gesture as she lit her cigarette and kept the device afterwards, explaining that Missandei would surely want it back and that he would almost surely forget to give it to its rightful owner.

“How do you know it's Missandei's?”

She scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “Are you fucking kidding me, Jon? It has _butterflies_ on it.”

They laughed, the tension fading away at least in some measure. How could this woman make him feel better just by laughing at his side? Just by showing up, by talking to him?

_Because you're in love, you utter fool._

The sudden realization hit him like a punch in the gut, leaving him breathless and dizzy. Dany was watching him closely, he realized, striking violet eyes peering into his very soul.

“Why didn't you tell me sooner?” she asked quietly after what felt like an eternity.

“I wanted to-”

“That's not what I asked.”

_Right._

Sighing, he let out the truth. “I was afraid I would... scare you away. That you would think I was just playing with you. Or with Ygritte.”

She nodded, almost like she was doing so to herself, focusing on some point on the ground.

“I understand that.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.” She took another drag of her cigarette, looking pensive. “Still, you should have told me sooner.”

“I know. I'm sorry, Dany.”

“What... what is it that you want, Jon?”

“STARK!” Pyp's voice called from the stairs. _Fuck's sake, not now!_ “Night's Watch on stage in five!”

“Go, Jon. We'll talk later,” she whispered, an indecipherable expression on her beautiful face. _Dear gods, I want to kiss her so badly..._ but it wasn't the right thing to do, Jon knew. He had no idea where he stood after everything he told her, and considering everything he _hadn't_ , too.

 _Later_ , he thought. _I will make this right._

Dany followed him inside after only a few minutes, immediately greeted by their friends. She was smiling at them, he could see from his vantage point on the stage, but only half-heartedly. _Oh yes, I will make this right,_ he promised to himself as he grabbed the mic and started singing.

Being on the stage felt liberating, empowering even. His frustration turned into an energy that flowed through the microphone, in the chords of his bass. For a while, he could forget about his frustrations and just _be_ , his body easing and his mind recharging. _Being on the stage is what kept me sane all this time_.

He was grateful for that, grateful to his bandmates for sharing this feeling with him, grateful for the way Dany's eyes never left him as he jumped and contorted on the stage. Her face was still as undecipherable as an encrypted message, but there was a tiny spark of hope rising in his gut nonetheless.

Until a flash of red hair entered his field of vision.

_Fuck!_

Ygritte was elbowing her way up to the stage, a possessive fury in the way she stared up at him, that, if possible, enraged him even more. He never felt so done with her like at that moment, and he scowled before turning his eyes away from her and to the small crowd, channelling his rage into his performance. They were playing good, tonight, and he wasn't about to fuck it up because of his romantic issues anytime soon. _This is the one thing I'm really good at_ , he thought with pride as he prepared to deliver the last song of their short, but intense, performance.

As soon as his fingers struck the last notes of his song, the crowd cheering wildly, he ran off the stage. He barely gave himself the time to safely put away his bass before he started looking for Ygritte. He quickly found her, grabbing her forearm before she could even say his name, yanking her outside. _Far from Dany_.

“What _the fuck_ are you doing here?” he asked through gritted teeth.

"Can't I come to see my boyfriend playin'?" she answered with a teasing, wicked smile.

“We both know that's a full load of bullshit about why you're here. And I'm not your boyfriend,” he growled. “Not anymore.”

“Well, that's some news,” she replied with a mocking raised brow. “Since when, dear Jon?”

“Since you refused to listen to me the last time we fought, Ygritte. I'm done. You're poison. You've always been poison to me.” He realized with a start that he was still holding her forearm captive. Inhaling deeply, he let her go. “It just took way too much time for me to understand it.”

“I came to apologize, Jon. You're right, I acted like a bitch. I was... I don't know, taking my own frustrations out on ya, I think? I'm sorry, pretty boy.” Ygritte tried to snake her arms around his shoulders, but he took her hands away. Visibly suppressing a scowl, she continued, her voice softening, “You know how much I care about you, right? Let's make peace, Jon. Let's not let a little bickering ruin what we have, love.”

She was leaning in to kiss him when he slowly pushed her back. “ _Love?_ Ygritte, are you completely nuts or just a compulsive liar?” He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “I did love you, that's true. And for a long while, I almost believed you loved me back. But I'm not so blind anymore, Ygritte. You preyed on my darkest insecurities to have someone by your side that could tame your own. I'm done with that.”

There was a tinge of sadness in his voice, but his speech never wavered. “I don't love you anymore, Ygritte. It's over. Go away, please.”

“Is this about that blonde bitch, uh?” Ygritte scowled at him.

“ _What?_ ”

“I can see your Instagram, you dipshit. You tried some blonde cunt and decided you didn't like mine anymore, eh?”

“You're the one talking? What the fuck were you doing in Dorne, eh? Ygritte, it's best if you go the fuck away before I lose the last shred of patience I've left. I like her, yes, so what? The fucking problem in our relationship is still fucking _you_! It always has been you.”

_Slap!_

His cheek was stinging, Ygritte's arm still raised as she trembled with rage. “Don't ya fookin' dare-”

“Do you want to pick up a fight with someone, Ygritte?” came Dany's voice, startling him.

“Oh great, here comes the blonde. Mind ya own fucking business, bitch.”

"Come say that to my face," Dany growled as she marched towards them with such fury in her eyes that Jon felt genuinely scared for a brief second. He could never have imagined that a face as sweet as hers could scream bloody murder like _that_.

“Dany...” Jon moved to stop her before it could turn ugly. “Hey, it's not worth it. Let's go back inside, ok?”

“She slapped you, Jon,” Dany growled, her murderous gaze never flinching from Ygritte.

“She did, but I'm fine. Let's go back inside. She's not worth it,” he said as he gently guided her back towards the stairs. Dany kept glaring daggers at Ygritte, who was still raving insults their way.

“How could you, Jon?” she asked as soon as they were out of sight, rage emanating from her entire body.

“Listen, I know I've-”

“How the fuck could you tolerate her for all this time? I swear if she ever hurts you again I'm going to... arggggghhhh!!” she vented, growling in frustration. _Oh_. “How could you let her go like that after how she treated you?”

“I wanted to slap her back, I'm not gonna lie. But I don't want to be that kind of guy, Dany.”

“Well, _I_ might just be that kind of gal. If she ever treats you like that again, Jon, I swear I'll go mad. You don't deserve any of that bullshit!”

She was so beautiful, a fiery goddess, her righteous rage threatening to scorch his skin like fire if he came too close. _My very own goddess._ She looked adorable in her protective burst of outrage, and before he could realize what he was doing, his lips were on hers, stopping her mid-rant. His hands were cradling her face sweetly as his tongue elicited a lovely moan from her mouth. Dany's hands went to grasp his shirt, yanking him closer to her, their bodies flush against each other.

“You asked me what is it that I want. It's you, Dany,” He whispered between kisses, relishing in the feeling of her hot lips against his own, of her little whimpers as he poured all his affection in the swipes of his tongue.

“I love you.”

He felt her still for a moment against him, backing up to look into his eyes with a searching gaze. “Say that again,” she whispered, violet eyes wide and bright.

“I love you, my little dragon.” He rested his forehead on hers, hands gently caressing her hips. “I know, I'm a mess and I should have-”

“I love you too, Jon.” She was kissing him again, fiercely, lovingly, the fire in her now a soothing warmth that made him feel light-headed and dizzy. _Gods, yes..._

“I'm not into open relationships, though,” she teased, making him laugh.

“Neither am I.”

For how long they kissed against the walls of the Pit's entrance, he didn't know. He couldn't see the people passing by them, couldn't hear anything but her moans and his own erratic heartbeat.

Suddenly, a hand heavily downed on his shoulder, almost making him jump. “Yeah, I'm so fucking happy that you two are getting along but-”

"Arya! What are you doing?" Gendry shouted, lunging to yank her away. But it was too late, as Dany burst into a fit of laughter, cheeks aflame.

“What? They've been out there for more than an hour, now! They can fuck each other's brains out in another moment, and in a more private place,” she slurred, visibly tipsy.

"Are you drunk, cousin?" Jon asked, feeling far too happy for the events of that evening to hold a grudge at the interruption.

“A bit,” Arya admitted, as Gendry reached out to steady her at the elbow. “But I'm _fiiine!_ ” She turned to dazedly glare at Gendry, a wicked smirk on her flushed face. “They have the nicest ideas, eh? We should make out, too, ya know? _Aaaall the waaaaay up against the waaaall_ ,” she sing-songed.

“Yeah, yeah. Later. _Sober_.” Gendry threw an apologetic glance at Jon as he tried to keep Arya's hands at bay. They were quite funny to watch, and he could see the mirth in Dany's eyes too, together with something wicked that made his blood boil.

“She's right, you know?” she whispered as she maddeningly toyed with the hem of his shirt. “We should go inside, have some fun. Spend some time with the others.”

“Are you serious?” he frowned.

"Oh, I am. And then..." she leaned to whisper in his ear, voice sultry and seductive, "Then we leave together, as I have no intention of sleeping alone tonight." There was a promise in the low tone of her voice and in the way she lightly nipped his lobe, sending a shiver down his spine.

 _Dear gods_ , he thought. _This woman will be the death of me_.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so proud of Jon, honestly.
> 
> Next chapter: Rhaegar receives some news. Are they good news or bad news? I guess it depends on the point of view.
> 
> I'm also working on two more one-shots, so expect those too at some point in time, lol.


	21. Made Up My Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been 84 years... *weeps*
> 
> *this chapter is provided to you by "Made Up My Mind" by Brassica*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to LustOnMyFingers and Enygma0710 for betaing this chapter. You're the best and I love you with all my heart!
> 
> Oh, and have you seen the new moodboards? They are the work of art of the amazingly talented justwanderingneverlost. Thank you so much, sweetheart! ❤️

RHAEGAR

He frowned, fighting a sneeze.

The report Brienne had brought him simply... didn't add up. There were so many discrepancies it couldn't possibly be right. “What the fuck is this?” he muttered under his breath, brows creased.

“Barristan, take a look,” he said as he slid the file he was inspecting to the other side of the desk. “Notice anything?”

The old man frowned in concentration as he quickly scanned the first pages. He stopped halfway through one, blinked, and went back to re-read them slowly, muttering something under his breath. “Well, this is a huge amount of money. And it occurs... periodically.” Barristan's clear blue eyes gazed up at him, pensive. “MB Consulting?”

“Yeah, MB Consulting. I'm the CEO, we pay this... company, a tremendous amount of money every month and I don't know anything about it,” he stated, worried and frankly pissed. “How so?”

“Well, it is listed under the Marketing expenses. I guess there's no other way but to ask Ms. Stark.”

Rhaegar frowned, dubious. “I guess so,” he exhaled. “Ok, send her here. I would like to speak to her about this.”

“Alone,” he added, as Barristan stood and walked out of his office.

Sighing deeply, he slumped back on his chair, tiredly, stroking his eyes in a vain attempt to rub away the beginning of a headache at his temples. Slowly opening his eyes, he focused his gaze on Daenerys' bright smile in the picture he kept on his desk. He stared at it for a long moment, slowly relaxing his shoulders against the high back of his chair, feeling tired and achy and grumpy.

A knock on the door broke him from his reverie. “Enter,” he called.

"Did you send for me?" Lyanna's sweet voice announced her, her head peeking from the door in a flurry of shiny black waves, the tendrils bouncing wildly around her face. Rhaegar thought he quite liked when she left her hair loose.

“Yes, Lyanna. Please, sit,” he nodded towards the seat previously occupied by Barristan. “Coffee?”

“Oh no, thank you. I already drank too much of it today, one more cup and I might end up dancing on my desk,” she chuckled, sitting down with her hands folded on her lap. She thoughtfully looked at him, blinking. “Are you well?” she asked as he tried to suppress another sneeze.

“Oh, yes, it's just... a bit of a cold, I suppose. Nothing serious.”

“Oh gods, I _knew_ it!” she exclaimed, jumping up onto her legs and quickly circling the desk to place the palm of her hand on his forehead. “No fever, at least,” she murmured, looking at him with an expression in equal parts concern and reproach. “You shouldn't have come to my house, Rhaegar. You probably caught it from me.”

She sounded almost guilty, and that made him laugh, the indignant expression on her face in response almost making him forget about everything that was wrong that day.

“You shouldn't worry, Lyanna,” he said, his voice softening. “I'm fine.”

She sighed, resuming her place on the chair in front of him. “What is it, then?”

Rhaegar slid the report on the desk, nodding to it. “I wanted to ask... what does your Department pay so much for?”

“What do you mean?” she frowned, grasping the report and reading it carefully.

He waited, searching for a new package of tissues in a drawer while Lyanna read, muttering under her breath all the while.

“MB Consulting?” she asked then, her eyebrows raised in a dumbfounded expression as she looked back at him.

“That's exactly what I hoped you could explain to me. We've been paying them handsome sums of money since you've been appointed as Marketing Head.”

"I have no idea what this is. We've paid for some external consultancy so far, of course, but not this frequently," she said, worrying her lips. "Or this much. I can see all the companies we've worked with, but this... I never even heard of them, Rhaegar."

He scowled, then, suddenly worried. Something was wrong, tremendously wrong. Lyanna narrowed her eyes at him, a hurt expression on her face. “You think I'm lying?”

He snapped his head in her direction, eyes wide. “No, no, of course not!” He realized he believed what he just said, as foolish as that was. He didn't know Lyanna all that well, after all, and even then, sometimes wolves wear a sheep's skin to fool you. But he just _knew_ she told the truth, a strong certainty that steadied his breath and his mind. “But if you never heard of them, if you know nothing about this, it means that someone is stealing money from us. Someone from your department, maybe?”

“That's... I don't know. I personally sign every external request and then send it directly to Finance.”

“Maybe someone has found a way to bypass your signature. They could even be forging it.”

“Gods, Rhaegar... it's _a lot_ of money.” She looked pale, lips trembling slightly. Her soft grey eyes seemed to be pleading to him, bare honesty in them as she proclaimed herself innocent.

“Yes,” he tiredly nodded. “Yes, we can't possibly ignore this. I would... keep it quiet, for now. Keep your eyes open in the meantime. _Anything_ suspicious, you refer directly to me.”

“Of course.” She stood and walked to the door.

“Lyanna,” he called.

“Yes?”

She was looking at him expectantly, her hair bouncing on her shoulders like a wild horse's mane. _Like freedom_.

“Do you... do you have plans after work? I mean... for dinner?”

“Oh,” she blinked. “No, I'm... I guess I'm free.”

He suppressed a relieved exhale, trying to look unaffected and dare he say professional as he continued. “Good. There's this place in my neighbourhood I wanted to try out. So we can talk... about strategy... a bit more,” he gulped.

“Oh, ok. Ok, I'm...” she chuckled. “Ok. See you later, then?”

“Yeah, later.”

He watched her as she scurried out of his office, the sound of her short heels fading as she walked away. Strategy? _Idiot_ , he thought of himself, grimacing.

Shaking his head, he forced himself to focus back to the pile of work still waiting for his attention.

* * *

LYANNA

He was waiting for her under the awning when she came out of the office, gracing her with a warm smile on his tired, beautiful face. She smiled back, relieved.

The report he showed her that morning was still tugging at her. She was responsible for all her Department's requests, and to not be aware of such large sums of money being accounted on her stead was worrisome. Was she in trouble? Did Rhaegar believe her a liar?

There wasn't anything but warmth in those indigo eyes, though, and she suddenly felt ten thousand times lighter. _That's what matters. That he believes me. Anything else, we'll solve it together._

“Here you are,” he greeted her, stepping to walk beside her in the direction of his car. “How was it today?”

"Ugh. It would have been good if only people would _answer_ _their fucking phones_ ,” she laughed.

“Oh, right, the ancient cursing of the abandoned phone. I feel that on a personal level,” he easily agreed, opening the door of his SUV for her. He closed it as she settled comfortably on the seat, then walked to the other side and took the driver's position, turning on the engine.

“So, have you dug deeper in that... report issue?”

He frowned, pensive. "I set Barristan on the task. We want to do some research before, you know... before making it official. Anyway, the online search for 'MB Consulting' does not give any results, which is disquieting, to say the least."

“Oh, _fuck_.”

He chuckled, amused. “Yeah, fuck. It's so fishy I'm almost sure someone is stealing from us, now.”

“You know I would never do that,” she said, almost a question, a plea in her tone.

Rhaegar looked at her then, open and sincere and- “I do, Lyanna.”

_Thank gods._

“What really worries me is that someone is probably trying to fuck you over, then,” he murmured.

“I thought about it all day. I... I don't know.” She slumped on the car seat, a loud exhale leaving her lungs. “I've been working here for a while, I knew all the people in my Department well before I was appointed as Head of Marketing. Thinking that someone would do something like _this_... well, it hurts a bit.”

“Do you have any idea who could it be?”

“I'm afraid not. I'm keeping my eyes open, but... it was such a rude awakening. How did you even find out?” she asked as she turned to look at him once again. He was frowning still, biting his lower lip.

“Sheer luck. I'm a nitpicker and a bit paranoid at times. I always double-check everything before launching a new campaign.”

“I wouldn't call it paranoid to be good at your job, Rhaegar.”

He hummed, smiling. “We're almost there. Look, is it fine if I just step up to my apartment to drop some things before we go to dinner? I don't want to leave my laptop in the car.”

“Sure.”

"You can... ehr, come up with me if you want?" he asked as he parked his car.

The idea of entering Rhaegar's apartment thrilled her beyond her expectations. “Oh, ok. I would love that.”

"Ok, cool." He fumbled around his jacket, fishing for his keys, then stepped out of the car. Lyanna followed with a spring in her step.

“It's right over there,” he said, pointing to a tall glass-and-steel building. “Just going to drop this off real quick. We... I mean, I can offer you a glass of wine before we go to dinner,” he proposed, seemingly more cheerful than before.

“A glass of wine, eh? Enticing,” she laughed, delighted at the blush that took hold of his face. Was he trying to flirt with her? If so, Lyanna had to admit to herself that his shy attempts were entirely effective on her.

“Well, I have some family friends that produce a great white. My sister actually convinced them to call it _Dragon_ , would you believe it?”

"Is she always so charming?" she laughed as they entered to the elevator to his apartment.

“Well, she had a great role model,” he winked. _Gods_. He was smirking, a surprising, alluring sight that made her smile love a lovesick fool.

“That's undeniable...” she murmured, feeling her cheeks burn.

He went silent, his tall figure seeming to loom over her. The elevator lights reflected a white ring in his eyes, his beauty almost alien-looking.

She was staring at him, she realized then, mesmerized by those otherworldly eyes, by the way his tongue wetted his lips. _Fool_ , she thought of herself, but she couldn't have torn her eyes away if her life depended on it.

He had an undecipherable expression as his fingers lightly brushed her hair away from her cheek. He leaned towards her, murmuring her name, and gently pressed his lips on the corner of her mouth, almost trembling, his hand grazing her arm, just shy of grasping it.

She snapped, months of repressed attraction – _affection_ – looking for an exit. She turned to kiss him fully, her right hand flying up to sink into that silver hair so bright, a hard press of lips and a clash of teeth and tongues until the elevator dinged and the doors opened and they abruptly let go of each other, panting.

He let out a nervous chuckle, blushing and grinning. Was he feeling shy about it? The thought made her laugh too, alleviating the rapidly pent-up tension.

Rhaegar smiled, then, and took her hand as they walked towards his door. The pit of her stomach had become a churning turmoil of nervousness, hope and pure, utter _happiness_. Like a dam breaking, all the feelings she had worked so ineffectively hard to suppress in the last months were coming back to the surface, a violent force that made her sway on her feet.

He only left her hand to fumble with his keys when they came in front of the door, and she immediately missed the sensation of his soft fingers intertwined with hers. _Calm the fuck down, Lya_ , she repeated like a mantra. She had to force herself back to her wits, or how was she to control herself as soon as that door would open?

“Here it is, my humble-” he started, placing a hand on the small of her back to guide her inside, only to abruptly stop, eyes wide with shock as he noticed there was someone sitting on his couch.

His hand fell from her back as his mouth went agape.

"Hello, Rhaegar," the stunning olive-skinned brunette said, an eyebrow raised as she appraised Lyanna with an expression of genuine surprise in her dark eyes.

“Elia?”

* * *

SANSA

“These are normative acts that have the same force, as they are inferior only to the Constitution. The difference concerns the reasons why they are put in place. The law is the ordinary instrument, whose enactment may take a long time. If you have to face situations of necessity and urgency, then-”

Robb's monotone voice was almost lulling her to sleep. He had been repeating aloud for the past three hours, a nervous wreck in regards to the law exam that awaited him in the morning. Sansa had helped him by periodically filling his coffee mug, a muttered 'thank you' every time she did so, although his eyes never left the mess of notes that he had splayed on the kitchen table.

 _And it's almost time for dinner_ , she thought, throwing a glance in his direction to assess the situation. _Oh, no. He's not gonna budge from there anytime soon._

Sighing, she put a bookmark on the novel she was reading, placing the book on the coffee table and stretching on the couch like a cat. It was a silly love story, something Arya had always mocked her about, saying she only read “that Harmony shit aunt Lysa likes”. The tragic heroine was indeed going through some shit, mistreated by a Prince Charming turned violent and manipulative, her only solace the company of a kind lady she could call her lone friend. Sansa was sure some handsome hero was just behind the turn of the page for the sad protagonist – it was a shitty Harmony-like book, after all – but she was kinda rooting for her to run away with the beautiful lady – and to hell with others.

She chuckled under her breath, thinking about checking out better books the next time she stopped by the library. Her phone vibrated in the pocket of her sweatpants then, and she lazily swiped the screen, only to audibly gasp when she saw it was a message from Margaery. Robb didn't pay any attention to her, luckily, so engrossed in his study he seemed to be completely unaware of her presence.

 _What was your address again?_ it said.

Baffled, Sansa kept her answer as straightforward as the question had been, and received another message a few minutes later.

_Come down, then._

Frenzied, she ran to the window, peeking down on the narrow pedestrian street. Margaery was there, looking down at her phone and checking the number on the building. Sansa ran to her room to hastily throw on one of her good casual dresses, freeing her hair from the tight bun and finger-combing the tresses down, hoping it would look good enough.

The memory of their kisses, of the wondrous date they had together, of the scorching glances they exchanged at practice, made her feel giddy and light-headed.

She ran down the stairs two steps at a time, rushing out of the door and into her arms, Margaery drawing her in a passionate kiss, completely indifferent to the people passing by.

“Oh, I missed you,” she murmured in Sansa's ear.

“We saw each other all week at practice,” Sansa laughed, sliding her hands behind her neck, smiling madly.

“I know, but I couldn't do _this_ at practice,” Margaery clarified, tilting her chin to kiss her again, playfully nipping at her lower lip and making Sansa moan.

“Marge, Marge, stop... what if someone sees us?”

"I couldn't give a flying fuck about that," she murmured. "And I'd like to take you out on a date again if it's the same for you."

“What? You mean now?”

“Mh-hm... unless you had better things to do tonight...” she pouted, although the mirth in her eyes betrayed her good mood.

“Give me five minutes,” Sansa said, giving her a firm kiss on her lips. “I'll be back.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. Everything is going to be fine, I swear.
> 
> OH, RIGHT. In the meantime, I wrote another story, "Dust Under Brightness" (that's why I haven't updated this fic in a lifetime, lol): https://archiveofourown.org/works/16089572. Go check it out, they say it's good shit.
> 
> Next chapter: lol, wouldn't I like to know what will happen next?


	22. Light Me Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *this chapter is provided to you by "Native State" by Kontravoid*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to LustOnMyFingers and Enygma0710 for betaing this chapter. You're the best!
> 
> Moodboard by the amazingly talented justwanderingneverlost. ❤️

 

RHAEGAR

"Lya, wait!"

Rhaegar tried to stop her from racing away, grasping her by the arm. She yanked it away, not quite looking at him, and rushed through the door.

_You big dumb fuck!_

Elia was looking at the scene unfolding before her eyes with a bewildered look, an eyebrow raised in surprise. "I'm glad to see you're doing ok," she said after a while, smoothing some invisible crinkles on her dress.

He reminded himself then, closing the door and shrugging his jacket off. "I'm surprised to see you here, Elia. Wine?"

"Oh no, thank you. I'm just... well, I guess I should have told you I was coming," she said, sounding apologetic.

"Don't, Elia. Don't apologize. You know that I'm happy to see you."

"Are you?" She sounded insecure.

" _Elia_..."  
  
"She's pretty, Rhaegar. I think she misunderstood, in any case. I actually wanted to talk to you about... about us."

He braced himself, waiting to hear what he already knew. A wave of sorrow suddenly engulfed him, looking into the eyes of the woman that a part of him still loved and always would love. _It's not the same as it was, though._

For as long as he could remember Elia had been his best friend. It felt strange, unsettling even, being now face to face with their failure, the weight of loneliness without her becoming a reality. He could see the same mixed feelings in Elia's eyes, a veil of sadness covering their usual brightness.

He sighed, slumping down on the couch in front of her, a soft resignation in his indigo eyes.  
  
"Where did it go wrong, my love?" he murmured wistfully.

"I don't know. I just..." she sighed, eyes getting a bit teary. "The truth is that I'm sorry. I hoped it would go differently, I hoped that what we had would last forever..." She scoffed, a bitter throaty laugh. "I guess it's unnecessary to even say it, in the end. Isn't that what everyone's that's getting married hopes for, after all?"

He nodded slightly, silently considering her musings.

"I loved you deeply, Rhaegar. A part of me feels like it always will, but..."

"I know. It's died out."

"Is it as simple as that?"

He looked at her for a long moment, looking for an answer in the depth of his heart.

"We loved each other. We don't anymore," he started, carefully choosing his next words. "We're confused and sad because it happened before we could really notice it, before we could do something about it. But even if we realized sooner, would that have changed anything?" He shook his head, looking intently at her. "We grew apart, my dear. Just because it was peaceful it doesn't mean it didn't happen."

"As simple as that, then," she smiled sadly.

"I love you, Elia, but not like before. I love you like a sister, like a friend, like a companion that will always have a place in my heart."

She nodded, the smile on her lips growing brighter. "We've always been on the same page, you and I. Even now, it seems we understand each other perfectly."

"Dine with me, Elia. We'll talk about our happy memories, and brighten up our hearts before we sign all those documents, eh?"

"Sounds like a plan," she beamed, standing up from the couch. "Should we order something and eat on the carpet like when we were younger?"

He laughed, relieving a bit of the weight on his chest.

"So, tell me a bit about her," Elia said when they settled down to eat.

Rhaegar frowned, somewhat reluctant to disclose the details of his love life with who was soon to be his ex-wife.

"Do we really have to talk about that?"

"Oh, come on," she laughed. "We've been separated for a whole year. We've talked about this, and if we want to keep our friendship, there has to be something we share with each other..." she smiled as she took a big spoonful of her dish.

"Ok, ok... I get it. I just... She works with me. I mean, _for_ me. You get the point."

"Mh-hm. And?"

"And nothing happened. I like her, we're just good colleagues... up until today."

"Gods, I really do have the worst timing ever, don't I?" she grimaced.

"Yeah, you do," he laughed. "We kissed in the elevator."

" _This_ elevator? Minutes before she ran away?"

"Yeah," he admitted.

" _Oh_." She stilled, looking at some invisible point on the carpet for a moment. "I met someone, you know?" she confessed after a while.

"I can't say that I'm surprised."

"It didn't go too well, actually. We had a few dates, you know, tried the whole 'get to know each other' thing... but it didn't work out."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not, really, not about him. I don't even know why I'm telling you this, it was pretty pointless... but yeah, I guess what I was trying to say is that we got married quite young, and I mean, we _are_ still young. It's not an ending, more like a new beginning."

"Being back in Dorne surely worked wonders on your positivity, Elia," he chuckled.

"Oh, that's on the fresh air. It's sunny in King's Landing, too, but the sun of Dorne... it's healthier," she winked.

"I won't argue on that anymore. We never agreed on it," he said with a soft smile. "You know, I truly am happy you're here... I missed you, I missed _this_. I may sound selfish, but I don't want to lose you. What we had may have dwindled, our grand romance may have died out, but-"

"I know. It's the same for me," she beamed. "You're one of the best people I've ever met, Rhaegar, and we always cared for each other deeply. Wouldn't we be utter fools to throw it all away, the kinship we've found, the affection we still feel for each other?"

"Utter fools indeed," he smiled, his heart lighter than it had been in a long time.

* * *

SANSA

Her head bumped a little against the car's passenger window, but it didn't hurt. Margaery's plush lips on hers were a distracting force. An earthquake could come, and she would barely notice it.

Sansa moaned, chasing after her mouth when she leaned back, hair all mussed and that signature wicked smile on her beautiful face. "Did you like the dinner, Sansa?" she asked in a murmur.

The dinner had indeed been good, a far cry from their fancy first date, both girls perched on the high chairs of a cheap but tasty burger joint, fueling her naughty fantasies as they cleaned each other's greasy fingers off with their tongues. Their interactions gave her that warm feeling that comes when you do something simple and familiar with the _right_ person for the first time, but at the moment Sansa had something else in her addled mind.

"Oh, it was amazing. Now kiss me again," she pleaded, grasping at her shirt to pull her close.

She didn't have to say it twice, Margaery climbing on her lap with a sigh, ravaging her mouth yet again.

 _Bliss_.

That's what it was. Utter fucking bliss.

"Make love to me, Marge," she breathed out, not really thinking about it.

Margaery stilled, looking at her intently as a smile slowly took over her features.

"Your place or mine?"

"Uhh... my apartment can be a little cramped sometimes..." she explained as she drew back some errant strands of auburn hair from her face, slowly regaining her wits.

"Say no more." She pecked Sansa quickly on the lips, hurriedly climbing back into her seat and igniting the engine, heading in the direction of her own apartment.

"Grandma brought the place for me just a couple months ago... it's still quite sparse, but I was _itching_ to try that bed out," she winked at her, causing a fresh surge of wetness to dampen her underwear.

"I'm glad to be of service," she teasingly winked back.

The drive was short enough, yet to Sansa, it seemed to last ages. When not on the gear shift, Margaery's right hand was on her left thigh, trailing invisible circles on her skin, getting closer and closer to the hem of her short dress, then venturing daringly under it.

"You fucking tease," Sansa smiled, eliciting another wink from the beauty at her side.

"There," Margaery said as she nodded towards a luxurious-looking building, before parking a short distance from it. They all but ran towards the entrance, giggling and holding hands. Sansa thought they might look foolish to the onlookers, but she didn't care in the least. Being with Margaery felt exhilarating, and she wanted to bask in the giddy feeling of butterflies fluttering in her stomach for as long as she could.

Margaery's apartment was on the second floor, and they took the stairs in a rush, too excited to wait for the elevator.

The wooden door barely closed behind them before Sansa's back was pushed against the wall, a fierce kiss on her lips before her lover's mouth began its further exploration. The cleavage of her dress was scooped down her chest, the lacy bra tossed aside in the haste of pleasure.

"Oh, _gods_!" Sansa moaned, Margaery's mouth wreaking havoc on her nipples, the peaks taut and stiff under her ministrations.

"Oh damn... forgive me, it's just..." Margaery panted, an alluring flush on her cheeks, "Actually, it's totally your fault, Sansa. You're too beautiful to resist-"

"Don't you _dare_ stop now, Marge."

She smirked, amused at her fierce command. Sansa herself was quite surprised at her own boldness, so uncharacteristic for her, or so she had thought until today. There was something in the brunette's smile that made her lose all restraints, her usually disciplined body a wanton tremble, seeking her touch like a lifeline. She had never felt like this, had never desired someone this much. Her blessed mouth, her dainty fingers on her skin, the press of her breasts against her own, every sensation seemed multiplied tenfold in her very presence.

"Bold and commanding. I like it," Margaery smiled, grasping her by the wrist to all but drag her towards the bedroom.

Sansa barely had the time to mentally register the beauty of the luxurious apartment before she was falling down onto the mattress, the beautiful dancer following her with hands and lips and tongue. _Well, there will be time for a tour later_ , she thought, amused.

Margaery was straddling her lap, her thighs pinning her down with a force she didn't expect. The older girl straightened, throwing her a scorching glance and a lopsided smile as she slowly unbuttoned her silk shirt, freeing expanses of perfect skin and perky boobs as she went. Sansa's own clothes were still a rumpled mess, the hem of the dress bunched up under her arse, one nipple peeking out of the cleavage.

Margaery undressed slowly, tossing the shirt aside with exaggerated carelessness. Her bra followed shortly after, and her hands were immediately on her boobs, playing with them, her dainty fingers circling her nipples. Sansa slumped back on the mattress, immensely enjoying the spectacle the brunette was offering her, heat pooling between her thighs at the sight. "Touch me, Sansa," she whispered, gently guiding her hands to play with her breasts.

She complied eagerly, toying with the soft weight of her globes, relishing in the sensation of her soft skin and hard nipples under her fingertips, in the little noises of pleasure she made. She was so beautiful, the sunset light filtering through the windows making her hair shine like a crown, rich shades of brown and blonde, her mouth parted in pleasure, her chest heaving under their mingled touches.

Margaery tore away from her, hastily shedding her shoes and pants, her underwear immediately following. _So beautiful,_ Sansa dazedly thought, admiring her body, the hint of strong muscles hidden under her soft skin and enticing curves, the language of sex spoken by her taut nipples and wet, swollen folds, by the gooseflesh on her arms, by the panting of her breath.

She took Sansa's hands again, guiding them towards her hot pussy this time. "Feel what you do to me," she whispered as Sansa's fingers dipped in her wetness. They both moaned at the contact, Margaery moving to finally undress her too, the cotton of her dress sliding on her skin and leaving a trail of sensitivity in its wake.

"You're stunning," Margaery murmured, before sliding down in between her legs, her breath tickling her swollen clit.

" _Marge..._ " Sansa moaned when she kissed her cunt, her clever tongue mapping her folds and making her thrash back on the bed, bucking her hips upwards to get more of the sweet, sweet sensation of Marge's mouth on her bundle of pleasure. Her legs pinned down on the mattress by her lover's arms, she could do nothing but relent to the onslaught, giving up all control and restraint.

Margaery was so incredibly good at it, sucking her with such dedication that Sansa felt her orgasm building at an embarrassingly fast rate, a silent gasp falling from her lips as she came, throwing her head back on the pillow and clamping her thighs against Margaery's head like a vise.

The brunette eased her through it before she trailed up her body back to her mouth, ravishing her in a scorching kiss. Sansa could taste herself on her tongue, the tanginess a lovely contrast with the sweetness of her mouth, making her moan anew.

"Come here," she whispered, emboldened by the waves of pleasure still rippling through her body, "I want to make you come, too."

Her lover threw her a wanton smile as she slid up her body, lining her cunt with her mouth and leaning down to make them meet.

It was such a new sensation, the taste of a woman on her tongue, the tremble of her body as she gave her the same pleasure she had taken just minutes before. She would have imagined herself to be clumsy and shy, yet she was surprised at how naturally she could read Margaery's body, at how easy it was to learn her sweet spots and what made her moan harder. Her hands went to grasp her lovely buttocks to keep her closer still, fingertips digging in her warm flesh as she eagerly lapped at her core.

Margaery rode her like a woman possessed, steadying herself on the headboard, buckling her hips against her face, shamelessly seeking her pleasure. She looked like a goddess, a terrible, powerful being to be adored with carnal dedication. Her moans grew with the rhythm of their love-making, pleasure building as her volume increased.

She came when Sansa moved to suck her clit, heaving down on the mattress at her side, finger-combing back dampened hair from her sweaty face.

"Oh gods," she panted, "Are you sure this was your first time?"

Sansa felt giddy and immensely proud at seeing the wrecked form of her lover. She rolled closer to her, perching up on an elbow to look at her flushed afterglow, smiling like a fool. "It was," she confirmed.

"A natural talent, then," Margaery grinned, slapping her on a buttcheek for good measure.

They both laughed, their mirth punctuated by sweet kisses, a tight embrace of their naked bodies until they finally relented to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: the girl with the dragon tattoo.


	23. Courage to Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *this chapter is provided to you by "Courage to Kiss" by We're In The Water*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to LustOnMyFingers and Enygma0710 for betaing this chapter. You're the best!
> 
> Moodboard by the amazingly talented justwanderingneverlost. ❤️

LYANNA

She was working at her desk, a frown on her face, when she heard a knock echo from the door. She lifted her head to see the tall silhouette of Ms. Tarth through the glass-paneled door. "Enter," Lyanna called.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Ms. Stark," Brienne said as soon as she stepped inside the office. "I've brought you some documents that need your signature."

"Thanks, Ms. Tarth, you can leave them here," she gestured to a corner of her cramped desktop.

"One more thing, your presence is requested in Mr. Targaryen's office."

Lyanna had to refrain from grimacing. _Fuck_. Stomach churning with anxiety, she bashfully nodded at Brienne, taking a deep breath before standing to go confront her fears.

Her feelings were a tangled mess of confusion and heartbreak mingling bitterly in her chest. She knew he had a wife, for fuck's sake, so why had she kissed him like that? _Stupid woman_. After a night spent brooding on her couch with a pint of ice cream and a silly romantic movie, she had been tempted to call in sick and avoid seeing him at all costs for a few days, but ultimately decided to let her professional side win and still show up at the office. Alas, she had tried to tuck herself away in her office, hoping she wouldn't have to see him around, but Rhaegar seemed adamant in tormenting her.

A part of her was angry at him, too, but most of her bitterness was aimed towards herself.

She steeled herself against her fated doom before knocking at his door. "You sent for me, Mr. Targaryen?" she coldly asked as soon as he beckoned her to enter.

"Lya, please..." he pleaded with her, looking sad. He stood to walk towards her, trapping her with puppy eyes. It made her incredibly, irrationally angry.

"Please _what?_ " she spat. Rhaegar flinched, a painful expression in his eyes. "I knew it and I'm as much to blame as you, but-" she angrily whispered. "But you- I thought-" she broke off into a half-sob, half-scoff, her feelings entirely too muddled to be able to voice them out properly.

"Lyanna," he whispered quietly. "I'm sorry I hurt you, believe me when I say it was not my intention. This whole misunderstanding is my fault." He stepped closer to her, his voice lowering. "But _please_ , hear me out at least. Give me the chance to explain everything to you, will you?"

He seemed so sad, so hopeful, she couldn't bring herself to say no. Lyanna only nodded forlornly. "I reckon this conversation must wait until work is over. Can I go now?" she asked.

"Actually, I do have some reports we need to go over together..." he smiled, gesturing for her to take her place in her usual chair. Oh, it was going to be a long day.

* * *

RHAEGAR

He was waiting for her under the awning, the feeling of nervousness settling into the marrow of his bones. The day before had been a frenzied mess, the dam containing his growing feelings for Lyanna finally giving in, his heart filling when she responded in kind, kissing him as her life depended on it. Elia's presence in his room, and the terrible misunderstanding that followed.

Except for its terrible timing, he couldn't really regret Elia's arrival. He had missed her company, and they both needed to have the long talk they had, finally expressing all the turbulent feelings that had accompanied the death of their romance. Her friendship was precious to him, Elia's sweet soul couldn't elicit anything but affection in his heart.

Their romance died, but he still loved her dearly, just in a different way now.

But how to explain that to Lyanna? Sweet, wild Lyanna... Rhaegar would be a fool to deny his feelings any further. He wasn't sure if he could say he loved her yet, but damn, he was definitely getting there the more time he spent with her.

So transfixed by her beautiful eyes, he hadn't even realized he was going to kiss her until his lips touched the soft skin of her cheek. The happiness that flooded him when she kissed him back! He had felt giddy as a teenager, all coherent thoughts leaving his mind for a long, blissful moment. And then...

He grimaced, thinking back to her running away. Was there something he could have done to avoid her terrible misunderstanding? He wasn't really sure, but the fact she had given him the opportunity to explain made him feel hopeful enough to smile.

“Rhaegar,” came her soft voice from behind him. Turning, he caught a sad, but hopeful smile on her face. _Lya..._

“Come, Lyanna,” he said, offering his hand. She seemed suspicious, but grabbed it nonetheless, letting her guide her to their favourite after-work cafè in silence.

How to make her understand? Rhaegar didn't really know, but of one thing he was sure: he couldn't afford to be a coward, not anymore. He had to be honest, to tell her everything, not only what transpired with his soon-to-be ex-wife, but also of his feelings for the woman walking in silence beside him.

They sat down at their favourite table, the waitress soon delivering them steaming cups of coffee. He fidgeted, unsure on how to start this conversation when she spoke first.

“Do you love her?”

Startled, he rose his eyes to look at her in surprise.

"Something in the way you said her name..." she muttered uncertain, immediately hiding her wobbling lips behind her cup. Her pain was evident although she tried to conceal it, and broke his heart at the same time it filled it with joy.

"I do, Lyanna," he answered honestly. She closed her eyes, a pained expression on her face he longed to soothe with his lips. "I do love her like a sister. You see... Elia is one of the best persons I know. I don't think anything will ever change that."

“Like a... _sister_?” she frowned in confusion.

“Yeah. I know it sounds... weird. But, you see... our time together has already come to an end. I wasn't lying to you when I said we were separating, Lya.”

“Then... what was she...”

“We talked about our divorce, actually.”

A part of him knew she would eventually understand, his smart, observing, kind Lya. She was so similar to Elia in some things, and yet so different. So he grasped her hand over the table, squeezing it slightly, and he told everything to her, the same things he had talked about with his wife the night before, looking at her in the eyes, hoping she would see the sincerity in his own.

“I do get it,” she mumbled after he had stopped talking. “I just... it's not really how I pictured things to be between you.”

“I imagine,” he chuckled. “But I need you to understand, Lya.” Breathing deeply, he decided to bare himself to her completely. “I do like _you_ , Lyanna, a lot. As much as I tried to fight it, I can't help but seek you, like some fool following the light. I don't know if I can call it love yet, but... I want to try. I want to explore... whatever this is." He squeezed her hand, feeling nervous, his heart thundering against his ribcage. "If you want the same, obviously," he gulped. "You can't ask me to forget my affection for her, nobody could ever do that. But I promise you don't have anything to fear from Elia... nor from anyone else."

_Please, Lyanna._

Her grey eyes were looking at his intently. Was she searching for the signs of his sincerity? He hoped they would be as evident as possible, gulping at the possibility she wouldn't want anything more to do with him. After a long moment of her intense staring, she slumped down on her chair, sighing. Her eyes were glassy, lips trembling, his brain shouting insults at himself for the pain he had unwillingly caused her.

“If you're lying to me, Rhae-” she threatened, an angry warning in her searching gaze.

“I would _never_ do that.” _See it in my eyes, Lyanna. See my heart,_ he silently pleaded.

“Damn you-” she scoffed, hurling above the tiny table and grasping his tie to pull him towards her lips. _Yesyesyesyesyesyesyes..._

She broke the kiss as suddenly as she started it, looking at him with a gaze so fierce it would have tamed dragons. “Do not play with me, Rhaegar Targaryen.”

“Gods, no. I'm not _that_ stupid,” he smiled, happiness filling his veins, making him feel warmer than he ever had before.

“Good,” she smirked, leaning to kiss him again, slowly, promising. “Then I guess I can be your girlfriend, Mr. Targaryen.”

Gods help him, for he was completely in her power, and far too happy about it.

* * *

JON

“So, when did you get this?” he asked as he traced the contours of the fiery red dragon tattooed on her back with light fingertips, marveling at the softness of her skin.

“Mh?”

“Don't fall asleep yet, little dragon,” he chuckled at the drowsy tone in her voice. “I won't let you rest for too long.”

“Mhh...” She shifted under his touch, stretching her spine before she curled her arms up around her pillow once more. “You cruel man...” she muttered, a hint of amusement in her voice.

“So?”

“There's nothing too special to say about it. Dragons have always been my spirit animal, as I once told you...”

“Well, how did that happen?” He spread his palms across the lovely skin of her back, then moved to straddle her. She moaned when he settled on her arse, hands gliding in wide movements along her ribs, then moving upwards to massage the muscles of her neck and shoulders.

“Oooooh, _yes_ , keep doing that,” she murmured, his half-masted cock surging to full salute at the sultriness in her tone. She stayed silent for a moment, enjoying his ministrations, then started talking again, her voice muffled from the pillow her face was buried in. “Basically, it's all Rhaegar's fault. He would tell me all sorts of dragon stories and I was just a very impressionable little girl. As I grew up, we invented a whole lore about our family descending from dragons.”

“It is fitting. You're way too fierce to descend from anything else."

“It is," she smiled, "Especially when my mother discovered it and revealed to us the old family sigil.”

“An old family sigil? What is up with you fancy Targaryens?” he laughed.

“We _are_ fancy,” she smirked, amused. “We have a family sigil. A three-headed dragon, my mother found it as a child in some old documents about an ancestor of mine, named Aegon. Pretty dope, right?”

“I'm impressed,” he hummed as he moved his hands down on her hips, shifting down to settle his weight on her thighs instead. He moved to knead her bare arse, eliciting some very suggestive noises from her plush lips.

“I had to give homage to dragons after finding that out- _ahhh..._ ” she moaned as his finger grazed her folds, finding them already slick with arousal and the mess of their previous coupling.

“Understandable,” Jon distractedly agreed as he played her cunt with his fingers, stroking his hard cock with his other hand. She was beautiful and pliant and _his_ , and she owned him body and soul in return. He couldn't get enough of her, not that he really tried to keep his distance. Jon dived in their blossoming romance head first, all insecurities forgotten every time he saw the same kind of eagerness in return. The mere thought that he found her amidst all the souls that wandered the world was enough to keep him in a state of constant euphoria. Jon didn't even believe in soulmates until he met her.

“Jon...” she moaned, bucking her arse upwards in a silent invitation, making the tether of his control snap.

He lifted her hips and buried himself in her to the hilt, gasping at the sensation of her wet folds constricting around his cock. She had started taking the pill a short while ago, the newfound nakedness throwing them both into a sexual frenzy.

Dany anchored herself on the pillow, grasping it to brace against his thrusts, their moans the only sound in the room. He snaked a hand around her hips, circling her clit in frantic movements until she cried out, her body going limp in his hands. He only had to give a few more thrusts before he spent himself inside her once again, bending down on her back as he spurted into her greedy cunt, resting his forehead between her shoulder blades until he tamed his panting breath.

He rolled aside, his cock sliding out of her with a wet sound.

"This room smells like sex," she chuckled, opening one eye to teasingly look at him.

"Best smell ever," he rebutted. "But yeah, I get your point. We should go out sometimes."

"Pit?" she asked.

"Pit it is," he confirmed.

"I'm going to take a shower," she declared, rising from the bed in all her naked glory and padding barefoot to the adjoining bathroom. She had barely stepped a foot inside when she poked her head out again, a puzzled expression on her beautiful face. "Are you coming or not?"

She didn't have to tell him twice, he followed her eagerly, seizing her by the hips as she made to step into the shower, causing a fit of girlish giggles.

 

 


	24. Bonus | Midnight Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lovely LustOnMyFingers, my senpai and guardian angel in this fandom, has gifted me her beautiful art and it's only fair that I share this beauty with everyone else.
> 
> THANK YOU, babe. I'm not worthy of your friendship but I shall keep it and cherish it like you're the ring to my Gollum. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
> 
> Show her some love on the original Tumblr post as well: https://tomakeitbeautifultolive.tumblr.com/post/182483853818/in-the-midnight-hour-by-thescarletgarden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhh, is that a total chapters counter I see there? Does that mean that I finally outlined the ending of this fic, my first long fic, my baby? HELL YEAH.
> 
> That being said, Midnight is taking a short vacation from my brain as I'm working on my new fic, Stormborn and the Black Dread: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17614250
> 
> We will come back after that for the last five chapters with renewed energy!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Don't be a stranger, leave a comment! ;)


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